The Bohemians
by TheKnittingLady
Summary: How Spencer Reid became a part of a most unusual family. Set all the way back in the very beginning of Season 1, Reid/OC. Rated 'M' for language, mature themes, indications of rape and abuse, and suggestion of 'slash' relationships
1. Part 1: Chapter 1

_**Part 1**_

_Childhood has its secrets and its mysteries; but who can tell or who can explain them.  
- Max Muller_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**FBI Academy  
Quantico, VA  
09/21/05  
9:00 am EST**

**Spencer**

"They're calling him the Seattle Strangler, four victims in four months." Spencer Reid strode down the hall next to his mentor, his long legs easily keeping up the pace. "He keeps them alive seven days. The handle serves as a crank."

"Allowing him to control the rate of suffocation." Gideon observed.

"To prolong it?"

"To enjoy it." Spencer swallowed as Gideon continued. Eleven months on the job and it still struck him how depraved humanity could be. "Seattle's hit a wall?"

"Physical evidence is nonexistent, there are no tangible leads."

"And now another girl is missing." Jason opened the door to his office, allowing Spencer to follow. He watched as Gideon looked over the initial report. "I'll look the file over; I'll get some thoughts to you ASAP."

"You're going to be with us in Seattle ASAP." Aaron Hotchner said as he came in the door with Derek Morgan right behind him. Morgan gave Gideon a picture of the current victim, twenty-three year old Heather Woodland. "Before she left for lunch she downloaded and e-mail with a time delay virus attached." Hotch continued. "The killer's virus wiped her hard drive and left this on the screen." He handed Gideon another picture.

Gideon looked, looked up at Hotch, and moved to one of the pictures on his wall. "For heaven's sake catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself." He read, quoting William Heirens, The Lipstick Killer.

"He never keeps them for more than seven days." Hotch pointed out. "Which means we have less than thirty-six hours to find her."

"They want you back in the saddle." Morgan added. "You ready?"

"Looks like medical leave is over, boss." Here we go again, Spencer thought. I just hope Gideon's ready. I hope I am too.

"Sure they want me?" Gideon asked.

Hotch nodded. "The order came from the Director."

Spencer watched as Jason Gideon took a deep breath and shouldered his armor once again. "Then we better get started."

* * *

_M -_

_I'm sorry; I didn't mean to miss our anniversary. I hope these ribbons make up for it. They were dyed using a shibori technique from Japan, pleated before dying so the dye settled unevenly and artistically in the fabric. I've never seen this design before and so had to buy you a length of each color. I can't wait to see how they look against your hair._

_My reason for being late is that we went back into the field again._

_They thought that the victim had only hours and they were right so they called Gideon in. Of course I went with him, how better to learn? But I always feel so dammed behind when I'm out in the field, like I'm lost somehow or missing the point of the joke. I don't get the nuances and it baffles and frustrates me. We went out to talk to the victim's brother and he asked if I was a genius. I tried to explain to him that there's really no such thing, there's just natural speed reading and excellent memory and hard work, but it kind of fell apart. He was looking at me like I was a zoo exhibit. His dog didn't like me much either._

_Gideon is still working off his understandable case of PTSD after the Bale case and there was such a quick deadline on this one that he wasn't able to advise me. He did all right though, but you can tell that Bale and The Footpath Killer are lingering with him._

_Morgan doesn't understand, of course, and he spent all his spare mental energy trying to triangulate with me or Hotch against Gideon. His lack of trust is a huge issue. I want to tell him that if he doesn't trust Gideon then either work it out internally, confront Gideon or transfer, but stop the triangulation, it's juvenile and manipulative and annoying as hell. It really makes me wonder about his personal background, I remember being like that when I got to the House, a couple of years of therapy helped immensely. Granted the Bureau also seems to be concerned with Gideon's performance, but that's not really our problem. We need to work with him or not, not play these silly emotional games. It's unfortunate because Morgan is probably one of the most trustworthy men I know, but it's hard to work with him sometimes because he doesn't reciprocate. If I can't win over him then I can't win over any of them._

_And Hotch quite literally cut me loose. I even tried subtly reminding him by asking him if he remembered why Gideon always refers to me as Dr. Reid, as his wife is pregnant and with that and Gideon and the case he has a lot on his mind. He got it, but then his reaction clearly said that he wasn't responding deliberately. After six months assisting Gideon at the academy it's probably sink or swim time in his mind. I just don't know that I can adequately swim in this very different world._

_Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm not ready. Maybe I should have stayed in academia for another two years. I could be back in the House with you and Thom, or at least on campus. We could be doing groundbreaking work together. We could be exploring Mars together, or working toward that goal. And we could be spending our evenings together, the way a family should._

_But your father and the state won't allow us to be together. And there's no reason to sit there and collect degrees when I could be doing something much more useful with the time I have. We saved a woman's life today. As difficult as it was for me personally, professional it went extremely well. We saved her life and who knows how many other lives._

_I just wish it didn't come at the expense of a personal life. I miss you. I miss you and Thom and the House and having people around to talk to at the end of the day. And you, god I miss the both of you so very badly._

_Think of me tonight, in your bed before you sleep. I'll be thinking of you._

_239 days. _

_I love you._

_S_

* * *

**1425 Hillcrest Ave  
Pasadena, CA  
09/26/05  
6:00 am PST**

**Milly**

Millicent Bennett woke slightly before her alarm clock. As she did every morning she stretched a little, debated hitting the snooze button and decided it wasn't worth it, not with the morning sun already shining through the window. She got up, made her bed, and headed to the bathroom, losing her pajamas along the way. She came back out in a simple swimsuit, towel around her waist, and sunscreen to keep the famed LA sun off her pale skin even that early in the morning, and headed downstairs.

Down in the kitchen Marta, the housekeeper, was already getting the morning underway. "Buenos días Milly. Espero que hayas dormido bien."

Milly smiled in reply. Marta spoke fluent English of course; the Spanish was for the benefit of another member of the house and had become a habit. "Buenos días . Dormí muy bien, gracias. ¿Cómo estás hoy?"

"Me siento muy bien esta mañana. Desayuno en una hora."

"Gracias Marta." An hour was ample time. She headed out the back door, stopping in the mudroom to grab a swim cap. A few moments later and she was in the pool. She did enough laps to make a mile, and at the end of it she was soundly awake and ready to start her morning. She headed back in and upstairs to shower and then change before heading back down to breakfast. She dressed for work, a flower sprigged skirt and an ivory cotton blouse then carefully unbraided her curls, trying to fuss with them as little as possible so they wouldn't frizz, and then tied her hair back from her temples with a length of silk ribbon, one delicately pleated and shaded from grass to olive green. She made sure everything was in her bag, stepped into her loafers and then headed down the back stairs and settled into her seat at the bar just as Marta was setting out a plate of eggs, sausage, whole grain toast and fruit next to her milk. "Gracias Marta. Buenos días Esteban." She said as her breakfast companion appeared in the doorway.

"Do we have to this early?" Stephen "Stevie" Bennett had the same thick, curly-to-frizzy ginger-carrot hair as his sister and father, the same brown eyes as his mother, and the long, gangly body, broken voice, braces and deep love of sleep of a thirteen year old boy. He climbed up next to his sister, slouched over the plate Marta put in front of him, and yawned deeply. "Thank you, Marta. I don't see why we have to learn Spanish AND French?"

"French because Dad came from Europe and it matters to him, Spanish because you live in California. Besides, they're both Latinate languages, Spanish shouldn't be that hard etant donné que vous avez déjà parler couramment le français."

"Mords-moi" He replied. "Not all of us are geniuses."

"Don't need to be, lots of people speak more than one or two languages. Besides, it could be worse. Latinam discere poteram." Milly grinned as her brother covered his ears at the threat of having to learn Latin on top of it all. "Oh stop and finish your breakfast."

He stopped and resumed eating. "Where are Mom and Dad anyway?"

"Your father had to go in early today." Marta informed him. "And your mother is still in bed."

"Not a surprise." Milly muttered. She smiled reassuringly at her brother. "I'll take you to school today."

* * *

.

* * *

Some dialogue taken from _Criminal Minds_ Episode 01x01 "Extreme Aggressor". No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** This story is set very, very early in the series, meaning Gideon and Elle instead of Rossi and Emily.

It is more or less AU, but the cases are accurate to 01x06 "The Fox".

Rated "M" for language and mature themes. This is a Reid/OC story with some "slash". Also, it looks like there will be some cut scenes rated MA that I will publish on LiveJournal when the story is finished.

I'm putting up the first chapter now, so people can subscribe, but I don't plan to really start updating quickly until I get much further into the thing to be certain that I don't have to go back and tweak anything. Expect things to really get going sometime next week.


	2. Part 1: Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**BAU headquarters  
FBI building  
Quantico, VA**  
**09/28/05  
11:00 am EST**

**Spencer**

Spencer was supposed to head downstairs with Morgan to get lunch as soon as they finished the morning's paperwork. As usual he finished a good hour ahead so he pulled out his chess set and began playing himself, which, he thought, is the exact opposite of playing with yourself, but its better I not think of that.

Just as he was about to nail it Gideon stopped at his desk and moved white. "Check." He claimed. "Checkmate in three moves."

Spencer looked over the board and contemplated imprecations in Latin. "What?" Where on earth was he getting checkmate in three?

Morgan looked over. "You know you'll beat him when you start learning."

Learning? Seriously? "Learning what?"

"To think outside of the box," Morgan replied. What the hell does that mean, anyway, Spencer thought.

Elle called down to them as she headed into the bullpen, "Question for you."

Morgan looked up. "Shoot."

"The Footpath Killer, why did he stutter?"

"Come on, Elle, we've all asked him and he won't say. He wants us to figure it out."

"Oh, okay. I'm up for a challenge."

Spencer looked up as JJ brought Elle a stack of work and introduced herself. He liked JJ, he truly did. She was sweet and kind and gentle in all the right ways as well as very efficient and very attractive. But that didn't make her quite…quite. It wasn't enough to make him reconsider.

Then Hotch was calling them up to the conference room, and it was beginning all over again.

* * *

**Galois House  
California Institute of Technology  
Pasadena, CA  
09/28/05  
8:00 am PST**

**Thom**

Thom Hartmann rolled over at the opening strains of music and whacked his snooze button again. He didn't want to get up. He had been having the most delicious dream and he didn't want to stop. More specifically he didn't want to open his eyes and see the empty bed in the room. Why is it that the right thing always feels so wrong, he wondered?

"Good morning sleepyhead."

He cracked one eye open to see Milly Bennett standing there, dressed for the day in soft tweed pants and a rich blue tunic, a brown and blue striped silk ribbon dancing in her hair, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. At least she was polite about it. "Go away." He grumbled and snuggled down.

"You do this every morning." She put his coffee on his nightstand and sat in his desk chair. Not on the other bed, not ever anymore.

"I've noticed."

"It's not like he's dropped off the face of the earth."

"It just feels like it."

"I miss him too."

"I know. But you have the rest of your family." Not that I particularly want the rest of my family, Thom thought. Once again he felt the pang of deep anger about the whole sorry affair.

Milly was quiet a moment. "You're my family."

He cracked one eye, looked at her, and lifted the covers.

She crawled under them and hugged him close, letting him bury his head into the crook of her shoulder. He craved her, not like that, but he did love her so. "I miss him too." She repeated. "Two hundred and thirty-two days."

"I'm sorry." He gave her one more squeeze before leaning back to look at her, "Only a small lifetime."

"I know. We'll survive it. In the meantime get up." She detangled herself and got out of his bed to fetch her tea from his desk. "I have enough trouble with everyone else in the mornings; I don't need my other lover off his feed as well. You need to get up and get breakfast."

"Shrew," but he was sitting up and reaching for the coffee. When the covers moved she quickly shut her eyes. "Relax, peaches, I'm wearing underwear." He told her, "Just for you." But he kept the blankets up to his waist, for propriety more than anything. "You have office hours this morning?"

Milly grinned wickedly. "Yes. There's a paper coming due in my freshman class. What percentage of the class do you think will come by looking for an extension?"

Thom chuckled. "You should have told me earlier; we could have started a pool." He did crave her, but for now the frustration was deeply pleasing. "Will you sit for me later?"

She blushed and smiled. "Yes."

* * *

_S-_

_All right, you noble bastard, I confess. I miss you. There, now it's been said. I also admit that you were right in not going any further as it only would have made the pain more acute. Feel free to insert an I Told You So into your next letter, you earned it._

_On the plus side I've been accepted to the Mechatronics Lab at George Washington. I supposed I have you to thank for that as well, your recommendation carried quite a bit of the weight. So it looks like you're going to need an apartment big enough for three after all. Well four, at least on week-ends if Sharon gets her way. How are you going to explain that at work?_

_Before you ask, yes, I still think of you. Hope that doesn't put you off._

_(Included in this letter was a delicate, finely detailed line drawing of familiar young woman reading in a garden.)_

* * *

**BAU headquarters  
FBI building  
Quantico, VA**  
**09/28/05  
11:00 am EST**

**Spencer**

"Wow. Back to college." They were packing up their files, making sure their go-bags were prepped for Arizona and not, say, upstate New York. Garcia was helping, and providing moral support. "I remember college; it was like an endless party."

"Oh really?" Elle asked. "Were you in a sorority?"

"No, CalTech doesn't have sororities, they have houses. You settle in one as a freshman and then it becomes home for the rest of whatever. It's kind of like the system at Hogworts, you know, once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor."

"It's actually modeled after the residential house systems at Oxford and Cambridge, Garcia." Spencer pointed out as he looked through the reference materials. "Although I suppose was Hogworts was as well."

"Yeah, I was a Pageboy, in Page house. Spe labor levis et spe vinum gravis! May the work be light and the drinks be heavy!" She looked over at Spencer. "You went to CalTech, didn't you? Which house were you in?"

Oh hell, this was what he got for letting himself be distracted. "Oh, um, do we have any more legal pads?"

"Yeah, in the cargo hold on the plane. Come on Reid, what house were you in? I bet you were in Dabney, weren't you? All the geniuses were in Dabney."

Shit. She'd easily spent more time in the other houses than he had, she'd catch a lie. Well, it was coming on to time to admit the truth anyway, so what the hell. "I was, um, in Galois."

Garcia's eyes widened and she came around the desks to look at him. "No way! Oh my god, what was it like? Who else was in there with you?"

He couldn't help it; everyone reacted to Galois like that. He grinned at her. "Friends," he chuckled as her jaw dropped. "I'm going to go grab some more pencils."

Elle turned to look after him. "What was that all about?"

"Okay, at CalTech your house is, like, your social world. You do the intramural competition thing, you go through the house traditions, you eat in your house dining hall, and you prank the other houses, whatever." Garcia was practically running over herself in excitement. "And houses are always holding social nights, inviting other houses over for events, meals, that kind of thing. Except Galois, they never participated in _anything_. No competitions, no social events, they were ruled unprankable by the president's office, nothing. They're located in some undisclosed location off-campus so no one can find them. They don't exist in the campus computer network; everything about them is kept hardcopy so the information can't be hacked. They don't even participate in rotation, when freshman pick their houses, they're invitation only. That makes them the smallest house on campus; I've never even met anyone from Galois before."

"So why all the secrecy?" Morgan asked.

"No one knows! The most popular theory is that they're all working on DOD projects or something." Garcia nodded over her coffee cup. "Which, given Reid's brain, I would not be surprised."

"Oooh," Elle purred. "Dr. Reid gets mysterious at last."

"I always knew there had to be something." Morgan agreed. "I always knew."

* * *

_T –_

_I told you so. Also, you're welcome. I think you and Ben-Tzvi will get along fine._

_Short answer, I'm not. They may want to know who I live with, for security sake, but they don't need to know the details. Granted this team will probably figure them out, but I'm getting tired of hiding from them anyway._

_I miss you too._

_No, it doesn't put me off at all. I refuse to bow to convention and tradition in my personal life, we're already freaks, and we might as well be happy ones. _

_I still think of you._

* * *

.

* * *

Some dialogue taken from _Criminal Minds_ Episode 01x02 "Compulsion". No copyright infringement intended.


	3. Part 1: Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Bradshaw College  
Tempe, AZ  
09/28/05  
11:00 pm MST**

**Spencer**

Spencer had begged some space in the chem lab to try to work out the problem of the arsonist on campus. He was just going at it when Hotch came up to him. "Since you're more their age," he said, indicating some of the students in the lab, "why don't you do the talking."

Oh. Shit.

Spencer felt his stomach knot as his compartmentalization teetered. This was not good. Oh this was so not good. Hotch should know better, didn't Gideon explain? Did Gideon explain? I have to biff this, he thought, but in a way that doesn't compromise the investigation. He cleared his throat. "Um, hi guys." He said to the students, setting himself up as trying too hard to be too casual right off. "My name is S…S…" No, mustn't go there. Maintain your professional distance. "…Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm a…uh, agent with the BAU, um, Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI which, um, used to be called the BSU, the Behavioral Science Unit, but not anymore, they changed it to the BAU." Oh god, I'm managing to flub this just out of flubbing it. "Um, it's part of the NCAVC unit, the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime, which is also part of this thing called the CIRG, the Critical Incident Response Group," OK, I can save my own ass here, I think. "And…"

Hotch stepped in. "What's he's trying to say is that we'd love to know how you could help us."

Thank you God. Your friend, Spencer Reid.

* * *

**1425 Hillcrest Ave  
Pasadena, CA  
09/28/05  
10:00 pm PST**

**Milly**

At her age she realistically needed 9-10 hours of sleep a night. That meant that to get up and get a swim in before breakfast, an essential part of her day, Milly had to get to bed by 9 every night, a fact that baffled her peers. This put her on the same sleep schedule as her brother which meant that she was very nearly out when someone reached out and shook her shoulder. "What?"

"Can I talk to you?" Stevie told her.

"Can it wait until morning?" If he's going to wake me at this hour, she thought, he's going to have to accept cranky.

"Please."

"You're getting kind of old for this."

"Please."

Milly sighed. This is not why I bought a bunk bed, she thought, I'd hoped to have a female peer at some point. "Go on up," she told him.

She felt him climb up and settle. After a few moments he whispered. "Milly, I've been thinking about boarding schools back east."

Oh hell. "Why? No, don't answer that." Their parents had been looking at boarding school for Stevie for a while now. As much as Dad loved his kids, his legal practice was just getting busier and Sharon, Stevie's Mom, was not an involved parent, to put it politely. Stevie had been an accident, a happy one by Dad's standards but not by Sharon's. Boarding school was a natural solution to the problem. "I'm sure they will make an extra-special effort to be around on your week-ends home." She pointed out. "And there's always Church & Brunch with Dad, you know he won't miss that."

Stevie scoffed at this. "Are you sure about that? I mean, when it's just me and him, he might decide to skip it."

"Baloney he will! You know how much Church & Brunch means to him." Oh, everyone is going to love this. No, the guys will understand, and Sharon will be thrilled, dad not so much, of course. "Did Sharon put you up to this?"

"She was talking about it." He admitted. "I know she just wants to hurt Dad but think about it Milly, this way he can come out and visit both of us, away from everything."

Good point, Milly thought. It amazed her sometimes that Sharon managed to not only poison her marriage and her relationship with her step-daughter but managed to completely push her biological son away as well. Impressive work, that. Anyway, she considered the idea. Whole weeks of my family and our family and no Sharon to demand Dad's presence at some charity function or other, I could go for that. "So why aren't you telling him this?"

"Because Dad listens to you like you're a grown-up. Maybe it won't bug him so much if it comes from you."

Sigh. "I'll talk to him. For now go to sleep."

"Cool." She felt the bed shake as he flopped down in the top bunk. "Love you, sis."

"Love you too."

* * *

_So I'm looking at Sandy Springs, Woodberry Forrest and Blue Ridge. Sandy Springs would be my first choice because it's based in the Quaker educational tradition which should be a good fit with his learning style but its co-ed which might be tricky. Blue Ridge fits our family's traditional Episcopalian belief system and it's single-sex but its two and a half hours out of DC, which is kind of far to hop back for the week-end if he needs it. Woodberry splits the difference in distance and is also single-sex but I'm not comfortable with a loosely Protestant-based system after what happened with Thom's family. I thought about St. Alban's but the boarding slots there are highly competitive and I'm worried that being right in the city might be too much of a temptation for wandering._

_I know Dad really should be doing this, but I'm afraid that if I leave it up to him he'll send him to someplace local and he'll beg to come home on week-ends only to be rambling around this house alone. As he grows it will become rambling around the city with who knows what kind of company and what kind of trouble he'll find. Or else Sharon will talk Dad into sending him heaven knows where and he'll never be able to come home at all and he'll feel forgotten. It's not his fault that he was an accident. I feel like he deserves a normal family, a normal adolescence, or at least an adolescence that lands somewhere on the normal spectrum and given the gifts I've been given part of ensuring that is my responsibility . And no I have not discussed those feelings with a counselor at the House and I do not intend to either. _

_I'm just glad that by the time this all comes together he'll have two remarkable big brothers for role models. One who battles evil like a superhero and one who's going to be exploring Mars._

_I am so very proud of you. I know I've said that but it cannot be said enough. What you are doing is daring and brave. I know it and Thom knows it and we cannot help but respect all of this, even as we miss your presence. I miss your presence._

_Think of me tonight, in your bed before you sleep. I'll be thinking of you, in the sweetest of ways_

_231 days. _

_I love you._

_M_

* * *

**Gulfstream G-IV  
Tail number N4SP  
Southeastern airspace  
09/30/05  
Noon local time**

**Spencer**

"So," Elle said as she slid two pretzels into the pot and took two cards in return. "Tell us about this Galois House, Reid."

"There's nothing to tell about it." He finished dealing and pointedly did not smile at his straight. He didn't even have to cheat. "It's a dorm."

"Yeah, a super secret dorm where no one socializes. And that's invitation only."

Not exactly, Spencer thought. But he waited to reply until he ended the hand. "So it's a dorm for people who don't party, what's the big deal?"

"A college dorm where no one parties," Morgan chuckled. "Try again."

"So what did you do to get invited?" Elle asked.

"I worked very hard." Spencer was trying to bury a smile. They were only curious because they liked him; he was coming to realize that at last.

"Okay. Did you have a roommate?"

"As a matter of fact I did. Three cards please."

"Does this roommate have a name?"

"So you can ask Garcia to look him up?' His smile widened as he caught her at that one.

"Okay, what's he doing now?" Morgan asked, "If it doesn't give it away."

"Teaching," Spencer replied. "And doing lots of math and drawing a lot of pictures."

"Reid!" Elle swatted him.

Spencer started chuckling. "According to the terms of the CalTech honor code we cannot talk about Galois House, period. I am not going to break it over cards."

Now Morgan was laughing, "Honor Code? Really?"

"Yes, really, we all agree to it and since I am still a social member and my partners are still there I'm not giving anything away; especially not to a bunch of profilers."

"Social member?" JJ asked.

Spencer folded, pulled out his wallet and put his House ID card on top of the pot. Morgan folded and picked it up to have a look. "Social members have the right to attend and participate in all House meetings and events as well as use House equipment and services. Since they don't actually reside in the house they cannot enter room picks, vote, or run for office." Spencer told them.

"This is a swipe card." Morgan realized. "What, food service account?"

"Key Card." They all looked at him. "What?"

"You're telling us that this dorm has the same security as Quantico." Elle pointed out.

Spencer considered this and nodded. "Yeah, pretty close."

"Why?"

He couldn't help it; he just grinned and shook his head.

"Okay." Morgan was still grinning. "This is a challenge. I am going to find this place and figure it out, just you wait."

"Good luck."

* * *

.

* * *

Some dialogue taken from _Criminal Minds_ Episode 01x02 "Compulsion". No copyright infringement intended.


	4. Part 1: Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico, VA  
09/30/05  
8:00 pm**

**Morgan**

The nice thing about flying home from a case on a Friday morning was that they had some hope in hell of getting everything done before ten. Doubly nice given what he had burning a hole in his pocket. He found himself grinning and even catching a beat as he finished the last form.

Elle was just finishing up as well. "OK, so give." She said as she shut her last folder. "What's so exciting that you actually ordered dinner in so we'd finish tonight?"

Morgan shut his last file as well, "You done then?"

"Yea, give it up."

Morgan looked at the other desk, usually unoccupied, but tonight they were all working together to get it all done, "JJ?"

"Finished."

"Reid?"

"I was finished an hour ago." Reid was flashing his way through a book, again. "I was just waiting out of curiosity."

"Babygirl?"

On my way," Garcia said as she came downstairs.

All right then. "Okay, I know JJ and Garcia like Latin music." At that JJ turned up a smile and almost started purring, and Garcia just grinned. "Elle, I'm gonna guess…"

"You better believe it baby."

"And Reid over here…"

"I speak Latin."

"…is going along anyway 'cause he clearly needs to learn how to have a good time. I have a VIP pass to Ibzia tonight."

And now the ladies were humming with excitement. "OK, deal." Elle said. "Ten minutes to change?"

Morgan nodded as the three of them headed for the locker room. It would take him less time, but he didn't want to leave the fifth member of the team to sneak out unobserved. Sure enough, "Um, actually I'm probably going to just head home tonight." Reid said.

"No you are not." Morgan replied. "You are going to go out with the rest of us and have a good time."

"Morgan, I don't drink and I don't dance."

"And we will get you doing both."

"I don't have anything to wear."

"Don't worry, just take off the tie and comb your hair, you'll be fine."

"Morgan…"

"You should go." Said Gideon as he almost appeared out of nowhere on his way to the door. "Cogita quod iuncto aedificium exercitium."

Morgan waited until Gideon was out of earshot. "See, you even got permission from Grandpa."

Reid sighed. "All right, I'll go."

* * *

**Ibzia  
1222 New York Ave. N.E.  
Washington DC 20002  
09/30/05  
9:00 pm EST**

The problem was getting Reid to loosen up.

Morgan got them in with his VIP pass, introduced them to his friend the manager, and was given a table in the VIP lounge to camp at with an excellent view of the main dance floor. All was well and good, everyone was having a great time already, no killers, no death, no paperwork, Garcia checking out the guys, JJ and Elle planning to head down to dance as soon as they got drinks, and him already spotting some very fine ladies over at the corner bar. Reid, however, was a nervous lump. "Coke," he said when the waitress asked his order.

"Come on Reid!" Morgan begged. "At least order a beer."

"Coke," Reid insisted.

They all laughed. Then the music changed and the girls tried to get him up to dance. "No. No really. I've tried, I have tried, and I am a horrible dancer." After a few they gave up and headed out to dance.

"Okay, you're not going to drink, you're not going to dance, at least tell me you're going to try to get to know one of these fine ladies tonight."

Reid looked over with an apologetic smile. "Do you want an honest answer to that?" Morgan groaned. The kid was impossible. "I'm actually quite comfortable just sitting right here, you know, holding down the fort. And I'm…I'm not familiar with the music, it'll be good to just…watch."

"All right, all right, just think about it. I'll be back." Morgan gave it up and headed over to that bar right over there…

* * *

**Bujinkan Kocho Dojo  
995 East Green Street  
Pasadena, CA  
09/30/05  
6:00 pm PST**

**Milly**

They hadn't had a class in two weeks. Milly had missed it.

Later in the evenings this was a dojo dedicated to the 'ninja' arts, supposedly Japanese martial arts low in sport techniques and high in combat. The high in combat part was why they rented out to the local Krav Maga club in the afternoons. On the outside it was an older building with some vaguely Asian decorations. On the inside it was a big, open space with mats and changing rooms, which was about all they needed. Milly came out of the ladies' changing room ready to go. Unfortunately Thom wasn't quite there yet. "Slowpoke," she grumbled at him.

"You don't have to wrestle into a padded cup." He replied as he started getting into the thing.

She watched him a moment. "I always wondered why they made those things in red." She said. "Seems like it's making it a target."

"Hush, wench."

"Hi there!"

Milly turned and found herself confronted by a blond woman with a handful of papers. She was a tiny thing, with minimal body mass, her bones showing and as fragile as a bird. "I'm Kelly."

Ahhh yes, the instructor's new wife, the reason for the lack of classes. "I'm Milly, this is Thom. Um, if you're looking for a sparring partner…." I will squish you, she thought.

"Oh no. I don't do all of this it's too…male." She added a little laugh that was supposed to make that comment socially acceptable. "I have Ari to look after me after all. No, we're thinking about adding massage therapy to the class, I'm a certified massage therapist." She offered Milly a flyer.

Well that was easy. "No thanks." She turned down all of it, including the flyer. Why waste the paper?

"Oh." Kelly looked…confused. Clearly everyone had politely taken her paper, "Why not?"

"Pair bonding," Milly answered without thinking. After all, it was the standard answer they gave around the House when you didn't want to be touched.

"Huh?"

This was not the House. "Pair bonding, part of the human tactile response includes the release of a suite of hormones, oxytocin, vasopressin, prolactin, testosterone and dopamine among others, which promote pair-bonding between individuals. The deeper and more intimate the contact the greater the release. You seem really nice but massage is a deep, intimate form of contact and I don't want to trigger a pair-bonding response with you." Milly watched the confusion cloud over Kelly's face as Thom started chuckling behind her. She cleared her throat and pitched her voice to sound younger. "My Dad told me to save that kind of thing for when I get married."

"Oh!" Now Kelly had something she could work with. "Good for him, waiting is always a good thing." She said, giving Thom a Significant Look. "You know what the bible says about marriage, right?"

Annnd time to start looking for new classes. "Right."

"Let me tell you, waiting is sooo worth it. So, if your family is that kind of close why are you taking these classes? Your Dad will look after you."

Milly felt a little poison enter into her smile. "So I can beat the crap out of the Las Vegas High School football team if it ever comes up."

By now Thom was suited up and joining her on the mat, "Same here. Oh and I plan to kill my brothers and cousins before they kill me."

Kelly went from confused again to alarmed. "Why would you want to kill your family?"

"Self-defense, their church told them to kill all the homosexuals they find." He grinned as the alarm grew. "Oh, you assumed we were just like you. Sorry sweetie, I'm the evil poly Atheist faggot your preacher warned you about. Now if you don't mind, we'd like to go back to learning how to defend ourselves from the dominant culture."

Kelly fled.

Thom laughed at her retreat. "Why didn't you include strengthening the pair-bond through prostaglandin exposure and really confuse her?" He asked.

For a moment Milly was too busy growling to answer. "Why oh why do people insist on substituting superstition for science?"

"Because superstition is easy and science is hard. Besides, you're the one who insists we go to church on Sundays."

"That's family tradition." Milly sighed and tried to relax. "I'm just sorry you had to deal with that."

"No worries. A massage therapist married to an Israeli and running around in yoga pants is hardly a member of the same cult as the rest of my family. She's just kind of narrow in the head is all." They watched as she went to talk to her husband. "Good, looks like Ari is setting her straight. Maybe we won't have to find a new club."

"Hopefully." People were lining up on the mats. "Ready?" Thom lifted his pad and nodded. Milly took a deep breath, pictured one Alexa Lisbon standing in front of her, and let the first punch fly.

* * *

_T- _

_I'm writing to you from a nightclub in DC. My co-workers insisted, claiming that this would be "relaxing". Not hardly. The music is too loud, the women are much too forward, and opportunities for breaking the Honor Code wait around every corner. And I have to sit here and keep up the facade of appropriateness well into the evening when I really just want to go home, change out of my work clothes and these contacts and curl up with a box of cereal and some TV. _

_Granted it would be even better if you were there to curl up with me. I wouldn't mind sharing some hormone exposure right now. This place is flooded with such a high concentration of pheromones that I'm going to have trouble releasing enough pent-up energy to sleep tonight._

_Of course you know where my thoughts will lie when I attempt…._

* * *

**Ibzia  
1222 New York Ave. N.E.  
Washington DC 20002  
09/30/05  
10:00 pm EST**

**Morgan**

The music was killer, the ladies were amazing, and the night was literally alive. Morgan took a break at one point to come back to the table, catch his breath and rehydrate. There he found Reid, writing a letter. Damn. "You're really not having fun, are you? Is that in code?"

"Yeah, it is." Reid looked up and sighed and shook his head. "Not really. I, um, I think I'm going to head home for the night."

"All right, I'll see you Monday then."

"Yea, see you Monday."


	5. Part 1: Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Penelope Garcia's apartment  
Washington DC**  
**10/01/05  
12 noon EST**

**Morgan**

Now that the party was over it was time to solve the mystery, or at least to start to try.

When Garcia opened her door she found Derek Morgan standing there, comfortably dressed, and carrying a bag of breakfast from her favorite bakery and a tray with two large cups, one of which had to be her favorite coffee drink. "What is this?" She asked, letting him in.

"Bribery," he admitted. "Galois House, I've got to know."

She sighed but accepted the bribe. "Morgan, my love, I swear it does not exist in the electronic world. Until Reid claimed it I thought it was a myth. For all I know he's teasing."

"He has a key card for it."

Garcia's eyes went wide. "Really!" Morgan watched as her brain went in to overdrive. "Oh. Oh oh oh oh…Oh!" She handed him the coffee and went to her home machine.

"What!"

"Shoo! Shoo!" She waved him away with a flick of her hand. "Go put the game on or something and let me work!"

Morgan retreated to the other end of the small apartment and did just that. He sipped at his coffee and nibbled his bagel and waited. It didn't take long, before the end of the first half Garcia was crowing triumphantly, "Orenlock!"

"Orenlock?" What the hell was Orenlock?

"Orenlock!" She motioned him over to look over her shoulder. "One of the biggest locksmith companies in the greater LA area. They hold the contract to repair all the key card readers for CalTech. I looked at all their service calls over the past five years and plotted each of the buildings against the ones in the CalTech system, and they were all listed on the registry. All except one." She zoomed the map down close. "1338 East California Avenue, right across the street from campus. OrenLock lists it as a CalTech building but it's not anywhere in the campus computer network soooo by process of elimination it has to be Galois House!"

Morgan just grinned. "Babygirl they should have let you in because you are a genius! Can we get a look at it?"

"Google Street view?" They were able to get a decent look that way, at least of the location. The house sat on a corner, and from what they could tell, was surrounded on all sides by a border of thick greenery which appeared to conceal a ten foot tall fence. "Is that…" Garcia zoomed in as close as she could at one spot, then captured the image and used another program to clean it a bit. "That's barbed wire at the top, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and it's angling out. That would make it nearly impossible to climb that fence and get in." Morgan frowned. "What the hell do they keep in there?"

* * *

**The Langham Huntington Hotel  
1401 South Oak Knoll Avenue  
Pasadena CA  
10/02/05  
10:30 am PST**

**Mark**

Mark Bennett was consistently amazed at how some parents could ignore their kids entirely. Take Milly's friends for example, one had a mother who clearly loved her son but was also extremely ill, that he could understand, but his father had abandoned the family years before. The other had been abandoned by both parents when he came out of the proverbial closet, leaving him a ward of the university. In both cases a little understanding made it clear that the adults thought that since the children were intelligent enough to be years ahead of their peers in education they must be mature enough to be on their own, or to care for a sick parent instead of being cared for themselves.

Bullshit. Genius or not, they were still kids. And kids who needed some kind of a parental figure, even if their intelligence, maturity and that wonderful Honor Code the University required meant that they didn't need day-to-day oversight.

That was why, when Stevie was born, he instated a family tradition. Every Sunday, no matter what, their family got up, got dressed, attended mass at All Saints Episcopal Church and then had brunch here at the Langham. Even if Sharon refused to get out of bed, which happened more and more often these days, he always took his children to Church & Brunch, first just Milly then Stevie once he was old enough, and then her friends from CalTech when he realized just how badly those two boys needed the attention. It gave them a sense of stability, and unfortunately more often than not it was the only time during the week when he could connect with them, when he could catch the time with them before they got any older.

They just grew so dammed _fast_.

"So, how's the team treating you?" He asked Thom.

"Remarkably well, Sir, I think we have a real shot at pulling out of last place in the league this year."

Even as they continued making small talk about Cal Tech's chances in soccer this year Mark studied Thom Hartmann. When the hell did he get so tall, he wondered? And when did he fill out? Seems like yesterday he was a gangly fifteen year old with a cowlick and freckles, terrified of going into the foster care system because his parents literally threatened to murder their gay freak of a son. Now he was on the school soccer team, was teaching at the University, was confident and outgoing and ready to take his place in the world.

Then there was Steven, just hitting his first major growth spurt from the looks of it. His voice cracked over the hymns this morning. Next thing you know he'll be asking me how to shave, he thought. Sending him off to boarding school was going to be a tough one, but given how busy he was during the week, how Sharon… well, it was probably for the best. They were looking for a school close by, so they could keep up their Sunday ritual no matter what but Stevie was talking about joining his sister back east. So independent already, where had his little boy gone?

And look at Milly, Jesus, when did she turn into a woman? Seemed just yesterday she was the princess of the tea party right here in this hotel. Now she was nearly as tall as he was, and between the martial arts and the rugby she was probably as sturdy as he was as well. Granted she never did fit the narrow American ideal of what a girl ought to look like. Americans insisted girls be like willow trees while his girl was more of a sturdy British oak. It earned her some contemptuous looks, especially when she wore a pretty dress like she had this morning. Not that she paid any of them any mind; she had good men in her life, for all that they tried to hide…well, good men who understood her and cared for her just as she was and would never hold her back. Granted they were moving far too fast for his taste, they had already made mention of marriage in the future. Dear God, he could be walking her down the aisle as soon as next year. I'm not ready, he thought, as he gulped water to hold back the tears in his eyes.

But ignoring the relationship or fighting it would only push her away further at this point. Accepting it but placing limitations would keep them content long enough for them to grow, just a little bit more. "So, how is everything out in DC?" He asked his daughter as the next course came.

"So far so good," she replied with that soft, quiet smile of hers.

Yes, he thought as she went on; just give me a little more time.

* * *

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico VA**  
**10/03/05  
9:30 am EST**

**Morgan**

He finally got out of his morning meeting and was able to corner Reid at his desk in the bullpen. "1338 East California Avenue, Pasadena, California." He said.

"Galois House?" Elle asked from her desk

Reid didn't look up from his file. "Yes." He answered to both of them.

"It's a corner lot with a hedge hiding about a ten foot fence with barbed wire at the top."

"Yes."

"What the hell takes that much security?"

Reid just smiled.

Morgan couldn't help it. "I'm gonna get this. You know I'm gonna get this."

"Good luck."


	6. Part 1: Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Galois House  
California Institute of Technology  
Pasadena CA  
10/03/05  
3:00 pm PST**

**Milly**

Thank god the day was over, she was starving!

Every weekday the small cafeteria at Galois House served up three meals and prepared one brown bag lunch for their members. They did not, however, prepare the expected breakfast, lunch and dinner like the other Houses. Breakfast for the five current Full Members and the two Resident Counselors, yes, and then a brown bag lunch for the five full members were prepared every day. However given that schedules were never identical, that most of the members had at least one evening class a week, and that on the other nights they had homework or in-house classes, and that they tended to go to bed far earlier than other students, rather than dinner they served what they called Afternoon Feed, a buffet set out from 3 to 6, that anyone, Full Member, Social Member or staff, could partake in, and then they set out a much lighter Before Bed Snack later in the evening. As a result Afternoon Feed was the best attended meal in the House.

Not that Milly cared a whit. As happened most days she hadn't been able to truly enjoy her lunch and so by the time Afternoon Feed started she was famished. After her office hours she zipped into the House and headed straight for the dining hall. Monday was comfort food day, and meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy and green beans had never looked so scrumptious. Add in a glass of milk and the promise of apple pie later and she had found respite in a tiresome world.

She'd just settled in the corner at the Post-Grad table and taken her first heavenly bite when a voice spoke. "Are you really going to eat all that?" Thom said.

She rolled her eyes and glared at him. "Do not make me stab you with my fork." She said as she pushed the nearest chair out with her foot. "I have practice this afternoon, I'll be burning it all off before dinner.

He was teasing, of course. He'd taken two slabs of meatloaf and huge helpings of sides, and if she knew him at all he would go back for seconds before dessert. After all, he was in non-work clothes and his hair looked freshly washed, which at that time of day meant that he had spent the past hour and a half either in the gym in the basement or on the soccer field, and it was all going to go straight to muscle and bone. "Let me guess, lunch with the ladies of the biology department today? Don't they realize you're on the rugby team?"

"Of course and no, they don't understand. In this culture being a woman means being on a diet. A woman not on a diet is gender-bending somehow. As a result every time I try to eat a decent meal in public I stand out like a twelve-foot tall gorilla in the room."

"No. A twelve-foot tall gorilla would get less notice." Thom pointed out.

"You're probably right."

* * *

_It was supposed to be some kind of collaboration gathering hosted by the women's studies department or something. They served green salads with low-fat dressing, gluten-free crackers and a cookie. And everyone avoided the cookie. Not that I blame them, it was stale to the point of being rock-hard. I wonder if they just recycle them from luncheon to luncheon. I wonder if that means that by the end of my academic career I'll have eaten everyone else's cookie. Somehow I don't think I want to work out the math on that._

_I swear to god, the myth of the 'Freshman Fifteen' is killing me. I'd really like to know which idiot came up with the idea that when you let college students loose on the eating halls with what seems like an unlimited meal plan and no parental supervision they immediately stop moving and start sucking down the desserts and fried crap, eventually gaining fifteen to twenty pounds by the end of their first semester. There's a group out of CUNY that's working on the question of the accuracy of the claim. Preliminary data is showing that female freshman actually only gain 1.7 pounds on average, men gain 3.7 and only 5% of students actually gain fifteen pounds or more. However while 53% of college age women are already at a healthy weight, depending on the study, up to 65% are on a diet and an additional 10-15% are over the line into an actual eating disorder. Given that CalTech has 290 professorial faculties on staff this year. Roughly 10% of those, or 29 are women, and 75% of those, or roughly 22 are either suffering from an eating disorder or on a diet. So, approximately seven female professors on this campus had had enough to eat today to mentally function at the level expected at this institution. However, the other six of those are well over fifty and/or sedentary which means they need about 2000 calories a day more or less. I need 3700 which means that I need to eat close to twice what they do in a day just to manage growth + activity + powering a mind like ours and so I tend to stand out every time I eat in public. At least Thom has the excuse of being male and on the soccer team; he gets gentle jokes about hollow legs while I get the disgusting fat pig look._

_How have you been coping anyway?_

* * *

_How do I cope? I eat as large a breakfast as I can and then spend all day swilling coffee with way too much sugar to keep up my energy level. It's disgusting and probably bad for my pancreas but it keeps the hypoglycemia away. Then I stop for an overly large dinner on the way home, and usually eat again before bed. I've also more or less given up on physical activity. I just can't spare the calories. _

_When it comes to this I'd rather just tell everyone the truth and endure the teasing. It would probably be gentle and good-natured after all, these are kind people. But I don't know if they would be willing to continue to work with me…._

* * *

**DC Diner  
2453 18th Street NW  
Washington, DC  
10/03/05  
9:30 pm EST**

**Spencer**

"_Jesus Reid, are you really gonna eat that?"_

It was still the bane of his existence, the most difficult thing, trying to appear 'normal' in front of the team. Trying to fit in, to act like he belonged, to prove that he was worthy of the extreme faith Gideon and Hotch were putting in him.

It was ten times harder when he was so dammed hungry all the time.

He didn't know how they did it. Morgan was on some kind of low-carb, low-fat, no-sugar thing that involved protein shakes, both JJ and Elle seemed to live on nothing but salads, even Hotch said that Haley was after him to go low-cholesterol. And Gideon never seemed to eat at all. The only one who ate anything close to a healthy diet was Garcia and even she looked at him funny the one time they had eaten out together.

Granted none of them had grown two inches _taller_ since they joined the bureau either.

Even though Spencer had just eaten with the team three hours before he had only eaten a small BLT, something that wouldn't call attention, something that didn't stand out. Now he was seriously considering cannibalism. He missed being able to sit down and relax and enjoy a meal with his partners, he really did. But at least this was close.

He settled into a booth at the quiet end of one of his favorite restaurants. Monday was comfort food day back at the House, and he planned to partake, if only at a distance, and so he ordered the meatloaf with the mashed potatoes. Creamed corn instead of green beans, but that was a trivial detail. Add on a salad with ranch dressing and an extra side of Mac and cheese. A large glass of, yes, whole milk and a slice of apple pie to come, then he pulled out the letters he had received that morning from each of them, his writing set and a yard of delicate blue silk ribbon he planned to include in one envelope.

It was almost like being home.


	7. Part 1: Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**South Field  
California Institute of Technology  
Pasadena, CA  
10/04/05  
6:45 pm PST**

**Milly**

OK, she hurt. She officially hurt. That last tackle had nailed her right into the turf. Milly accepted the help of her teammate with getting to her feet, and then kind of lumbered over to the bench to find her water bottle. Stevie was actually home with their parents tonight. Dad, understanding the concept of Rugby schedule, and Thom were waiting for her having finished soccer practice before the rugby team got the field. "Why do you do this to yourself, peaches?" He asked. "You could play soccer and come away less…injured."

She turned and grinned at him. "Yes, but then I wouldn't feel nearly so…so…" How did she feel? "…alive."

Thom chuckled. "You know there are other ways to feel that way."

"Yes, but not yet, remember?" The bane of her existence. "And sitting for you only goes so far."

"That it goes at all says quite a lot, you know."

"Yes, but I'm all right with that."

* * *

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico, VA  
10/05/05  
9:30 am EST**

**Morgan**

He and Elle had received a call to get back to the BAU ASAP. They were on their way when they encountered Reid heading their way from the armory. "Practicing already?" Morgan asked.

"Practicing?" Elle asked.

"Pretty boy here barely passed his firearms qualification last time. Now he has another one coming up."

"Ohhh."

"Actually I was hoping to try out a revolver." Reid told them. "I have a theory that I might be picking up on the ejected shell casing flying by and that might be why I'm flinching and throwing off my aim. Unfortunately they only have Glocks available to loan."

"Loan?" That was…weird. "Why not just go buy one? I mean, you bought that one, didn't you?" He gestured to Reid's service weapon.

"No, it's a loaner from the armory."

Morgan was about to ask why when JJ came up to them. "Guys, come on. We have a bomber."

* * *

**Kerchoff Laboratory Building  
California Institute of Technology  
Pasadena, CA  
10/05/05  
2:45 pm PST**

**Milly**

Milly spotted Thom waiting for her as she finished her class. "All right, that's what Professor Berkowitz had down for today." She said to the class. "I am skipping her Q and A time because I have to go pick up a kid from school. If you have any questions I have office hours upstairs in 22b from 1 to 3 tomorrow, you can come and ask me then. For now that's it." She watched him wait for the worst of the herd to pass before heading downstairs. As she expected, a small crowd had gathered around the stairs to the stage, waiting for her. She gathered her notes, packed her bag, and turned to them. "OK, look, I don't care what your teachers or your parents or your coaches told you, here at CalTech you are not a special and unique snowflake. The rules apply to everyone, including you, including the one about no questions. Anyone who asks me a question before 1 pm tomorrow loses a full grade on the next quiz, period. Now scatter."

They scattered.

Thom fell in step beside her as she headed out of the building and toward California Ave. "Techy today, aren't we? You used to linger after classes to ask questions."

"Yes, but I was a special snowflake. And so were you."

"What were you doing in Berkowiz's class anyway? I thought you were covering for Astrid. And I thought Stevie has soccer practice until four."

"I am covering for Astrid, as well as Berkowitz and Stevie does have practice until four. I want to make Afternoon Feed before I pick him up or I might have to roast his soccer cleats over my engine block."

Thom waited until they were out of earshot of everyone. "Legs ache?" She nodded. "You know what that means."

She winced. "Oh hush, please!"

* * *

**United States Penitentiary  
Atlanta, GA**  
**10/05/05  
5:45 pm EST**

**Spencer**

Spencer was waiting and thinking in numbers.

"Bale may be part of this but he's not in control of it." Gideon came out of the interview room, phone in hand. "If he were he would have taunted me with specifics."

"So what's our next move?" Hotch's voice came from the speaker on the phone.

"I'll let Bale know the Unsub's using his designs." Gideon answered.

"Bait."

"Yeah, exactly. If Bale wasn't part of it before he'll sure want to be part of it now."

Some days you attempt to see into the mind of God, Spencer thought, and some days you see into the mind of evil. Evil is easier, but God is kinder when you mess up. We can't mess up with Bale this time. "I'm going to stay behind and monitor his mail, calls, if there's any contact he has with the outside world." He told Gideon.

"Good." Gideon replied, approvingly. "Even if he doesn't know the Unsub he may want to try to contact him."

They split up, Spencer heading back into the prison, his legs aching, a painful reminder as he strode down the hall. I miss trying for God, he thought as he walked down that long, cold hallway, but I'm doing a lot of good here. And I only have so much time.

* * *

_As much as I ache with missing you days like this make it clear that following Gideon to DC was the right decision._

* * *

**1425 Hillcrest Ave  
Pasadena, CA  
10/03/05  
8:45 pm PST**

**Milly**

"What are you doing?" Stevie asked as he stuck his head around the door.

Milly smiled. Stevie knew perfectly well what she was doing. She did the same thing every night without fail. At 8:30 she said good night to everyone, came upstairs and made a cup of tea. She changed into her pajamas, cracked open the window to catch the air and settled in her office at the desk. She cleaned off all the work, setting it aside for the next day, and opened the special part of the day's mail. The Letter. It was always on thick, ivory paper, sent in an envelope with a colorful liner, and written with a fountain pen in a neat hand and a code for privacy. There in the silence, by the light of her desk lamp, she had tea with her other partner, the missing one, reading the letter twice over, and then returning her half of the conversation on equally thick paper the color of beach glass. "Writing a letter. What do you think I'm doing?"

Stevie watched her a moment and then picked up the framed picture on her desk, the sketch of the tall, slender man with a book resting against his knees, completely engrossed. "Do you miss him?"

She reached over and took the picture back. "That's private." She informed him. "Yes, very much so."

"Why did he go?"

She looked up. "Why does it matter?"

"Because he hurt you by leaving," Stevie frowned the frown of someone growing a little, in the mind and in the heart, and finding growing pains along the way. "I think I should be mad about that or something."

Milly smiled at him. Sometimes Stevie drove her nuts, as only little brothers can. But sometimes he was one of the sweetest things in her life. "He didn't hurt me by leaving. We talked about it a lot before he left. He knew we couldn't be together just yet so he decided to take the time and try to make a difference in the world. And he is, every day."

"Why didn't he wait for you though?"

She sighed. "Because he doesn't think he has that much time and he wants to help as many people as he can with the time he has. Sitting here waiting for me isn't going to do much."

"Why does he think he doesn't have time?"

She looked out the window at the stars. "Sorry, Stevie; some secrets I can't even share with you."

* * *

.

* * *

Some dialogue taken from _Criminal Minds_ 01x03 "Won't Get Fooled Again". No copyright infringement intended.


	8. Part 1: Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico, VA  
10/12/05  
9:00 am EST**

**Spencer**

Spencer had just enough time to drop his bag at his desk before there was a commotion down in the kitchen area. He turned and sure enough, there was Elle and Morgan and JJ and in Garcia's arms was a goodly sized birthday cake, the candles already burning.

Sigh

The rest of the office joined in a round of Happy Birthday as Morgan placed a remarkably ridiculous hat on his head. "Make a wish." Elle said, encouragingly.

Spencer looked over the cake and smiled. It didn't look as good as the one he'd had last year for his birthday-slash-going away party, but it was still a sweet gesture. They really have accepted me, he thought, or at least they've accepted what they think of as me. He took a deep breath and went to work, but the candles refused to go down. "Come on!" Morgan called out. "Blow, baby, blow!"

"I thought you were full of hot air, Reid!" Elle teased.

Something was not right, the candles wouldn't go. It had to be some kind of a trick. Just for the effort involved, that they included magic in it had Spencer grinning even as he tried again and again. "Come on Reid!" Morgan cried.

"They're trick candles Spence, okay." JJ finally came to his rescue as he gave one more heroic blow. "They're going to come back on every time."

"Awww, Mommy to the rescue!" Morgan teased as he tugged on that stupid hat.

"Mommy?" Spencer tried to make light of it, but damn.

Off in the back Aaron Hotchner leaned over to Jason Gideon and murmured, "Isn't it amazing he knows what he knows at his age?"

Gideon smiled. "Imagine what he'll know by fifty."

"Hope you like chocolate." JJ said as she and Elle leaned in to sort out the candles and cut the cake. Spencer found himself surrounded by cleavage, loyal as he was he suddenly had to move or get very embarrassed.

"Aww, you got wax on the cake, man." Morgan grumbled as he moved around to get his piece.

Morgan moving gave Spencer a clear path to a getaway. He got up and moved over to Gideon. "Having fun?" Gideon asked.

I would be if this was honest, he thought. "Yes. Definitely. I am definitely having fun."

"Make a wish?" Gideon asked.

I wish I could get back to LA sooner than next month. "Can I take this hat off?"

Gideon looked it over and gave a minute shake of his head. "I wouldn't."

Spencer sighed. Gideon was his mentor and his friend, had been for years, but sometimes he just did not understand.

"Hey Spence!" JJ called to him, "First piece for the birthday boy."

Spencer turned to look at her. As sweet as JJ was, as much as he liked her, she just wasn't…. He went to get the cake, but turned back to Gideon. "You know, she's the only one here who calls me 'Spence'. Do you think that means she's interested?"

Gideon shrugged, "Maybe."

"Hope not." He had no desire to hurt JJ by turning her away.

As he went for the cake Morgan looked up at him. "So Reid, does this make you legal yet?"

Spencer froze. Oh shit, he thought.

Thankfully before he had to answer Hotch's voice cut across the bullpen. "Sorry guys, party's over." They all sighed and headed up to the conference room. At least I can take the hat off, Spencer thought. As he went past Hotch handed him a piece of paper. "Happy birthday, you're officially off probation."

"Thank you." Spencer kept it to a grateful smile even though he felt like jumping on the desk and howling. Hotch accepted him! Dear god he did it!

Morgan frowned as he went and tucked the official form that made him a full agent at last into his desk. "Probation? What was that about?"

"Later," Gideon called over. "Let's go, we're heading to San Diego." He looked up over his glasses at Reid, "Happy Birthday."

San Diego? Two hours and thirty-eight minutes south of LA? Spencer felt his grin becoming painful. Maybe birthday wishes came true after all.

* * *

**1425 Hillcrest Ave  
Pasadena, CA  
10/13/05  
5:30 pm PST**

**Milly**

"So how was your day, my dove?"

Milly looked up as her father came in the room. Her parents were on their way out to yet another charity function, while she was helping Marta get dinner on the table. She had to learn to cook somehow. "It was good, pretty much the usual."

"Oh?" Attending charity events was a big part of being a successful professional couple in LA, but Milly knew that her Dad would much rather stay home with his kids. The few nights he could he liked to drag them around the table, dishing up ice cream and pulling out cards for games. It was kind of conventional, but it was also kind of wonderful. It was even better when her boyos were there and could enjoy it too.

Dad always honestly enjoyed listening to them talk about their work too. "Yeah, I upped the concentration and got even more excited monkeys, but still no fission." If her monkeys, what they called the cells she was working with in the lab, couldn't reproduce then her entire hypothesis was out the window and she'd have no hope in hell of making the deadline.

"Ah darn it. But you said they got more excited. Maybe if you mixed the drink stronger?"

Milly smiled at her Dad. "My thoughts exactly, but I have to get the paperwork signed off to go that high." She held up her hand. "It's already in the pipeline."

"Good girl! So, how's rugby going?"

"Why can't you take tennis like a normal girl?" Sharon Bennett stalked in, her four-inch heels clicking on the floor. She was tight and slender and perky in the manner of an actress, and as blond as her stylist could get her and have it look natural. She also wore make-up like it was a natural part of her skin and tight, designer dresses like a fashion model. Next to her Milly instantly felt dowdy and frumpy and somehow un-sexed, every single time.

"Oh don't pay any attention, my dove." Dad chuckled. "Rugby is the finest game there is!"

"If you like looking like a linebacker."

"Hush, Sharon!"

"I'm just saying there's a reason why she only gets the attention of gay men, that's all."

Ouch. "Thanks, Sharon." Milly chirped.

"Well, all right, more than one reason."

Why did Dad stay with her anyway? Right, Stevie. "If you want to say good-night to Stevie he's in the family room." She sighed as Sharon stalked off, and smiled a little; if her step-mother only knew the truth.

"Right, well…" Her Dad was clearly uncomfortable. "I'm looking forward to your next game."

"Saturday morning, we're playing Azusa. The soccer team is taking the field right after, they're playing Claremont." She managed a smile again, "Thom's first varsity game. We can't miss it."

"And we will not." Her father tapped her on the nose and went off to finish getting ready.

Milly turned back to the salad, never catching the poisonous look Sharon sent her way.

* * *

**Galois House  
California Institute of Technology  
Pasadena, CA  
10/13/05  
10:30 pm PST**

**Thom**

Drawing can be a lot like writing, Thom thought, it's not a bad thing but its best done in private and wash your hands after.

He liked drawing, and he was good at it. He had a gift for creating fine, detailed drawings that were so exact that they were usually mistaken for CAD work, only he had the benefit of human intuition and an eidetic memory based on pictures, not words, to assist with the design, his own, unique brand of genius. As a result he had, for example, taken one long look at the pictures of Mars sent back by the last rover and knew that the distance between the treads on the next model ought to be increased by three millimeters to most efficiently handle the soil. And no, he didn't know how he knew these things, he just did.

But tonight he wasn't working on the Rover. Tonight he was working in one of his private notebooks, one only two other people had ever seen. Only they knew how he saw the world and the people in it. Only they stood witness to his vision. And because they were so willing and so accepting he kept his vision trained on them.

He put the final touches on this one, the curl of the hair falling over the forehead, the hands gripping the rugby ball, the delicate curve of the taut muscle in the leg, all that intense beauty, so very _alive_. It was such a deep pleasure to be able to capture what he saw at last, without any fear of reprisal. Honesty was so very exquisite.

But the richest part was when someone else saw, when someone else knew that he saw, when someone else knew what he knew, and didn't condemn but instead celebrated. And that was why he almost shuddered when he tucked the copy of the small drawing into an envelope bound for DC.

Grandpa was right. Some things were best done in private, only with the people you love.

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** All errors in the dialog are deliberate.

Some dialog taken from _Criminal Minds_ episode 01x04 "Plain Sight". No copyright infringement intended.


	9. Part 1: Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**San Diego Police Department  
San Diego, CA  
10/14/05  
10:30 pm PST**

**Morgan**

Done, The Tommy Killer was caught and put away. All that was left was the paperwork and that could be done back at Quantico on Monday. The only question in Morgan's mind was did he want to head back with the team or spend a week-end on the beach and fly back commercial on Sunday.

"Um, Hotch?" Of all people Reid was the first to speak up. "If it's all right with you I'm going to, um, fly back commercial on Sunday."

Hotch looked…well, Hotch was a rock, he rarely looked. "Sure. Just be in the office on Monday, call if you get stuck. Oh, and…" Wait, Hotch was actually cracking a smile. "…happy birthday."

"Thanks."

Gideon didn't look up from his notes. "Say hello to everyone for me."

"I will."

"Well, I'm not staying." Elle announced. "I've got a date tomorrow."

"Same here," JJ replied. "We've got tickets to the Redskins game. What are you going to do?" She asked Elle.

"Something more private than a Redskins game," Elle replied with a purr.

Now Morgan was curious. Reid seemed kinda too happy, almost floating. And CalTech was somewhere in LA, social member and all. "You know what, Hotch, I'm gonna stick behind too. Get some beach time in before I have to go deal with snow in DC."

"All right, see you Monday."

"Hey Reid," Morgan called down the table to where Reid was boxing up the last of his files. "Which way are you headed?"

"Pasadena."

"Want a ride?"

Reid laughed at him. "You're not letting the whole Galois House thing go, are you?"

Damn. "That obvious?"

"Pasadena is a good hour inland. Thanks but I'll catch the train."

"Why not rent a car?"

"I don't rent cars. Don't really need to."

"All right."

* * *

**California Institute of Technology  
Pasadena, CA  
10/14/05  
1:00 pm EST**

Given Reid's insistence on taking the train he wasn't going to get to Galois House any time before three. Morgan assumed Reid would be staying there. Not a clue where he was staying tonight, but first things first.

After checking out Galois House, which was as shut up and secure as it had appeared from a distance he decided to head in to the campus library to see if he could find anything there. His walk took him across a parking lot to a brick walkway lined in lacy olive trees, surrounded by graceful Spanish style building and full of students. He passed a lot of unicycles, a number of robots, and a howitzer along the way, as well as a ton of people trying to read, write and walk all at the same time. One way or another nearly all of them reminded him of Reid. It's nerdvana, he thought, no wonder Reid wants to spend his birthday here.

He reached the library, not surprisingly the tallest building on campus by several stories. When he asked the librarian for anything on Galois House she laughed. "Oh, there is no Galois House. It's a campus legend. I'm afraid some of the students were pranking you."

"Okay." You have a secretive group you believe might be up to no good (not in this case, but in general). If you can't find anything on the group how do you infer its purpose? Profile its members and see what they have in common. "Do you have any kind of list of which students are associated with which house?"

"No, you'd have to get that from the Interhouseing Committee."

Hmmm. Wait, Reid was still a member. "How about faculty, do they usually maintain any kind of affiliation?"

"Oh yes, everyone on the faculty is invited to be a social member of one house or another. And their affiliations are listed in the faculty registry."

"Do you have a copy?"

"We keep copies from every year."

"Let me see the last five, please. And do you have a private space where I can work; I might need to use the phone."

The librarian found the past five faculty registries and a small, empty meeting room where he could spread out. Okay, he thought, first find the one known member. And there he was, Reid, Spencer, PhD, Adj. Engineering/Applied Physics. 2003-2004, no house affiliation listed. Morgan quickly scanned through the book; nearly everyone had a house listed. By default, Morgan thought, whoever doesn't must be affiliated with Galois. Bingo.

He started with 2005-2006, the current directory. The guide listed two names, Bennett, Millicent, PhD, Adj. Molecular Biology and Hartmann, Thomas, PhD, Adj. Engineering/Mechatronics, whatever that was. Reid's degrees were in Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering/Applied Physics. No commonalities, no help so far.

In '04-'05 he found Hartmann, but no Bennett. In '03-'04 he found Reid, this time listed to Chemistry but no Hartmann. He found Reid in '02-'03, Mathematics along with a Venkman, Peter, Adj. Microbiology, and a Spengler, Edward, Adj, Quantum Mechanics. In '01-'02 he only found Venkman and Spengler.

Okay, so Hartmann is still here, he thought, Bennett is still here. Reid moved to the FBI. What about Venkman and Spengler? Where did they go?

Before he called Garcia he checked back in the '02-'03 book and lo and behold he found Venkman and Spengler, both listed to Dabney House. He checked all the way forward and found out that they were both still teaching on campus.

Okay, so why would you transfer from one house to another? Time to ask lucky number seven, "Hey gorgeous, ready to work some magic for me?"

"Aha, I knew it." Garcia replied. "You're trying to crack the secret, aren't you?"

"You know it, had to take advantage of being in the neighborhood. So here's a question for you, why would someone at CalTech change houses?"

"They wouldn't."

Well that was flat. "They wouldn't?"

"Well, I mean they could, but it's really rare. House loyalty is kind of a big deal there."

Huh. "Okay, let's start at the beginning. Give me the basics on four names, Edward Spengler, Peter Venkman, Millicent Bennett and Thomas Hartmann. I'm trying to see what they have in common with Reid other than house affiliation."

"Okay, you know this is not legal without a case file number, yes?"

Damn. "Good point. Okay, just…I don't know, give me the basics. Driver's license info, whatever a cop would get on a traffic stop. That's not too nosy."

"Yeah, I can get around it with this one…. Oh. Oh my."

"What is it?"

"Are you sure they teach there?"

"Yeah, they're listed as faculty, adjunct professors here, why?"

"Because Bennett and Hartmann are seventeen and Spengler and Venkman are both twenty-one, which is way kinda young for a PhD unless you're Reid."

Wait a minute. "Okay, can you tell me how old Reid was when he enrolled in college?'

"Oh, that's easy. He graduated high school when he was twelve, and his birthday is in October, so twelve. Why?"

Morgan laughed. Of course, now it all made sense. Granted he had a sense of other questions lurking, but this was satisfying as hell. "We just figured out the secret of Galois House."

"Really?" Oh he had Garcia's full attention. "What is it?"

"It's a house for minors."

"Oh. My. God! Are you serious?" Garcia all but squeaked.

"It fits what we've got." Morgan replied. "Reid can't be the only kid genius in the country, not that there are a ton of them but there has to be more than one. Not only would the university want to recruit that kind of talent but they'd be fighting to get in to a place like this. I walked across campus to get here and I'm telling you I have found his people. But the liability of having underage students in with a bunch of rowdy, horny college kids must be way too high, so they set up a small dorm just for them."

"Oh, of course! No parties because everyone is underage, no guests so they don't have to worry about predators, no pranks so no one gets hurt, and ample supervision so parents don't have to worry about their kids!"

"And all the secrecy for the same reason why we call him 'Doctor' Reid in the field, if anyone knew how young they were they wouldn't respect them, they couldn't get their work done."

"Yeah, but it also gives them a safe place to relax and be _kids_, you know. Probably the first time any of them had a real peer group." Garcia was practically cooing. "Oh, baby genius nursery, it's brilliant!"

Morgan laughed. "They're not _that_ young Garcia. More like a…a boarding school within the university for high-school aged kids. Still, it's a good thing to have."

"Yeah, I'm glad Reid found it. They did a great job on him."

"Yeah." That was the question that was still bugging him. "But Reid was coming back to hang out for his birthday. The two guys his age moved over to Dabney when they turned 18, why is he not going there?"

"Maybe he didn't transfer over?"

"No, you wouldn't keep a twenty year old in with the kids. You'd move them to a regular house so they could hang with people their own age." Morgan looked over his notes. "If I'm reading this right Venkman moved in August but Spangler didn't move until January."

"Spring term. They hold Rotation every August and January."

Hmmm. "Okay, so you have to stay in that house if you're under 18 in August or January, but if you're over 18 at the next Rotation you'd have to transfer out, that way they're not keeping a legal adult in there for more than a few months. That means that…" Oh this could not be right, no way. "Can you get into Reid's personnel file?"

"Uh, sweetie, there's nosy and there's getting fired."

"How about his DMV records?"

"Not without setting up a flag, why?"

Damn. "OK, if we're right and you have to stay in Galois when you're seventeen but you have to transfer out at 18, then Reid was underage in August of 2003. And he was still underage in January of 2004, because if he'd have transferred out they would have listed his new house."

"Buuuut he started at the Bureau in October of 2004. I thought you had to be twenty-one to start at the Bureau?"

"You do. But they offer waivers for just about anything if they think they need what you've got." This was not possible. "Are we saying that…?"

"Hold on." Garcia was typing. "Okay, I was able to access his old employment records from CalTech, and they have his birth date listed as October 14, 1986." Garcia stopped a moment. "Oh my god, Reid's only nineteen?!"

* * *

.

* * *

**Notes:** End of Part 1.

Remember, reviews get faster updates.


	10. Part 2: Chapter 10

_**Part 2**_

_Adolescents are not monsters. They are just people trying to learn how to make it among the adults in the world, who are probably not so sure of it themselves._  
_- Virginia Satir_

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**California Institute of Technology  
Pasadena, CA  
10/14/05**

**Morgan**

Morgan sat stunned for a moment while his brain tried to catch up. It fits, he thought. It fits everything. "It fits what we know about him, Garcia. He would have made SSA because of his degrees, but it explains all the fuss over him joining the unit. That's why Hotch had him on probation; he wanted to see how he could do before fully accepting him."

"Oh my god, Morgan, we've taken him out _drinking_!"

Oh shit. No, wait. "No we haven't Garcia. We've taken him _out_ but have you ever seen him order an actual drink?"

"No. No, he never does, does he? But he carries a gun, right?"

"An eighteen year old can carry a gun if their job requires it, like a cop or a soldier, they just can't _own_ one. He's carrying a loaner from the armory." Damn it, it fit. "And that's why he didn't rent a car when he came up here, the car companies won't rent to anyone under twenty-one. That even explains why he's coming up here to hang out, Hartmann and Bennett are seventeen, he was eighteen two days ago, that right in the same age range." Eighteen. Just whoa.

There was silence a moment. "And no one here is. I bet he's been real lonely in DC. All the college professors are old and none of the kids will hang out with a FBI agent." Garcia said quietly. "The Tommy Killer turned in to a birthday gift for him."

"Yeah, well."

There was a little more silence. "Are you mad at him?"

Morgan sighed. "I don't know." He admitted. "I don't like it when people keep stuff like this from me. I need to know who I'm working with."

"True. But if you had known he was eighteen before you knew what he could do would you have worked with him?"

Now that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Would he have worked with some kid, even with Gideon's stamp of approval? "No." Morgan had to admit. "Not well anyway.

"So, you know, go talk to him about it. Just don't take it all personal."

"I won't babygirl, I won't." He rang off and then sat thinking for a moment. I need more information, he thought. So he got up and tracked down the librarian again. "Excuse me." He asked her. "I need a little more information about the house system here."

"Sure. I'll help if I can."

"What kind of privileges do social members have?"

"Oh, it depends on the house; usually attending all the social functions, dinners, lectures, events, that sort of thing. Also access to whatever resources the house holds, like at Page house we have the library and the roller coaster."

"Ok, what about…" Wait…no, he was not going to ask. Morgan soldiered on. "…if a social member came in from out of town, would they be able to get a place for the night?"

"Sure, probably."

Good. If he was Reid he'd crash here, it was already paid for and he'd be close to his friends. But he wouldn't hang around the dorm waiting for them; he'd get a room, drop his bag and go find them. "How can I track down a professor if they're on campus?"

"Which one?"

"Millicent Bennett and Thomas Hartmann?"

The librarian turned to her computer and typed in something. Another patron stepped to the desk and Morgan stood aside to let her help. Once the patron was done she turned, read, typed something else, and then a moment later looked up. "Dr. Bennett is in her lab. She said Dr. Hartmann is there with her."

Perfect. "And where is that?"

"Kerckhoff Laboratory building."

Morgan tried to follow her directions but ended up lost anyway. By the time he got to where he was going he spotted a familiar, long legged figure just up ahead of him.

Right. "Reid!"

Reid stopped and turned at the familiar voice. For a moment Morgan saw outright panic, fear in his friend's eyes. What the hell? But then the fear became anger. "Morgan, what are you doing here?"

"Galois House. "

"Shhh!" Reid led them around one corner and then another, to a private spot by some kind of maintenance shed. "You just don't let up, do you?"

"Never."

Reid sagged and closed his eyes. "Okay, you want to know what it is? It's a…"

"…dorm for minors, for kids too young to be in the regular houses." Okay, he had to smile as Reid gaped at him a bit. "What, you think I'm only good at kicking in doors?"

"Congratulations, you figured it out." He very deliberately checked his watch, "And in time to make the plane back to DC." He turned to go.

"Wait a minute! Reid…" This was not going how Morgan planned. He reached to stop his friend.

Reid sidestepped and looked back, just once. "Please, Morgan." He not only looked angry, he almost looked…like it hurt.

"Reid!"

"I'll see you in DC." He turned the corner and was gone.

What. The. Hell.

Reid doesn't do this, Morgan thought. He's an open book. He doesn't get pissy and he doesn't evade and he doesn't….no. No, he couldn't just leave it here and go back to DC. There was something else going on.

He started following Reid again. Thankfully he was far enough ahead not to notice, and it was a clear path, so he hadn't disappeared. He followed him down another building and then watched him go through a large archway that led to a courtyard parking lot and some loading docks, and stop. As Morgan watched a slow, brilliant smile lit his friend's face. It was quiet enough to hear voices bouncing off the walls. "I'm not expecting anyone peaches, I don't know who it is," said a male voice with a faint accent.

"Well whoever they are I don't want some stranger banging about in my lab," came a female voice.

"I'm hardly a stranger." Reid replied to them both, in a voice full of laughter.

"Spencer!" Both voices called out.

And then the owner of the male voice came into view, long legs eating up distance. He went right up to Reid, threw himself into his arms, and kissed him full on the mouth. Not the polite, European kind of hug and kiss either. That was the kind of combo you gave a lover who had been gone a long time, the kind that came when the pain of their being gone was suddenly lifted.

And Reid returned it right back.

Then the owner of the female voice came into view, and she repeated the gesture, throwing herself into Reid's arms, and kissing him full on the mouth like she had missed him just that hard. And Reid returned it.

With one arm slung around each of them Reid let them lead him further into the building, laughing.


	11. Part 2: Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**California Institute of Technology  
Pasadena, CA  
10/14/05**

**Morgan**

He did not just see that. Derek Morgan did not just see that. There was no way in hell that he just saw that.

He stood around the corner and watched the trio disappear down into what looked like the basement of the building; Reid and the other two. Reid and his…

Okay, breathe. Think. Go over it again. Reid is nineteen. Reid got into the FBI on a waiver. Hotch approved him after supervising him for a year. Hotch never compromises his standards when it comes to his team. Hotch thinks Reid is a good agent. Ergo Reid is still a good agent.

So far so good.

Reid is nineteen. Reid spent his high school years at CalTech, living in a dorm that was more boarding school than college. They keep the dorm a secret to keep the kids living there safe and to allow them to keep their ages quiet so they can work with older students without question. Reid agreed to keep their secret after he left to keep the kids still there safe. Reid protects kids; ergo Reid is a good person.

Okay.

Reid is nineteen. Reid just turned nineteen yesterday, so in many respects Reid is still mostly eighteen. Reid is still mostly eighteen and his friends are seventeen and I don't know when they're turning eighteen. Either way, Reid hangs around with people his age who are as smart as he is. In other words, he hangs around with his peers. Reid prefers to spend time with his peers, ergo Reid is normal.

I'm good with that, Morgan thought

Reid is nineteen, still mostly eighteen. I don't know when he last came out this way but we can assume he's been gone a long time. Reid's been gone a long time and he came here to surprise his friends with a visit. Reid came here to surprise his friends with a visit for his birthday. But a birthday is usually your friends doing something special for _you_, not you doing something special for _them_. You do something like this for someone if you value them more than a peer, much more than a peer. Ergo, these are not just peers. They are not just friends.

Reid is nineteen still mostly eighteen and he has been gone a long time and he showed up to surprise his friends for his birthday. His friends greeted him like a friend who had been gone a long time, except they didn't. They greeted him like a _lover_ who has been gone a long time. He surprised them like you would surprise your girlfriend if you had been gone a long time. He has been acting like he was planning exactly that since we left for San Diego. These are not just friends, they are not just peers, these are lovers.

Reid is nineteen, still mostly eighteen. Reid passed Hotch's standards. Reid is a good FBI agent. Reid goes out of his way to protect children. Reid is a good person. But Reid has two seventeen year old lovers. Seventeen is underage so that does not work.

"…and then Sinclair got up and thanked him for correcting the mistake he'd been making for the past sixty years." Came a voice from the courtyard. "Wait where did he….? Oh." The younger man from earlier, the one who had gone to Reid first, was coming out of the door to the basement. If Morgan didn't know better he would have pegged him for late twenties, tall, slender but athletic, kind of nerdy/foppish, handsome almost to the point of pretty with that dark hair/pale skin/blue eye combo that always set Garcia off, only those eyes were the kind of intelligent that would have caught notice before he met Reid. He stopped and just looked at Morgan a moment.

No, he was looking at Morgan's _gun_.

The woman came out next, this time without the white lab coat. He would have pegged her as late twenties as well, tall herself, sturdy in the way so many mistake for fat but was really all muscle, probably more athletic than the man. She had the kind of pale skin and ginger red curls that could only have come from Merry Olde England, and blue eyes just as intelligent as the other two and a serious look about her but was otherwise unremarkable at best. She looked at the first man, who gave the smallest of nods. Then she spotted the gun as well and moved to the other side. They're bracketing me, Morgan realized, they've had some kind of martial arts training. "Can I help you?" The man asked.

"Yeah, I'm looking for Drs. Bennett and Hartmann." Just to confirm.

"I'm Thom Hartmann. You're the one the librarian messaged about?"

"Yeah."

"And you are?"

"Derek Morgan." He pulled out his badge and showed them before he realized what he'd done. "I'm here on private business."

They relaxed a little, probably to a familiar name and knowing that he wasn't going to use the weapon, but not as much as he had expected. "I'm Milly Bennett." The woman confirmed. "Spencer didn't say anyone else was coming."

"Well he did just tell me to go…"

"Morgan!" Somehow Reid just appeared in the stairwell.

Aw hell. "Yeah, I know. I know."

Reid came storming over, seriously pissed. "We're not supposed to profile each other!"

"I know."

"Then why the hell are you here?"

"Because I need to know who I'm working with and…"

"You know who you're working with! Nothing about my professional life is any different than it was this morning! Nothing!"

"Yes it is."

He didn't think he'd ever seen Reid this furious. "You know you…you really need to sit down and talk to someone about these trust issues and…"

"Nineteen? And these two?" Morgan jerked his thumb at the other two.

Reid stopped. The other two looked at each other. "Gentlemen," Dr. Bennett spoke up. "Let's take this someplace more private, shall we?"

"Where, peaches?" Dr. Hartmann replied. "There's barely enough room in your lab for the three of us to stand there, he's obviously not a relative and we really can't have this one anywhere around Sharon."

Reid had been glowering, now he was suddenly distracted. "Has she gotten that bad?"

"Yes." The other two said together. Dr. Bennett spoke up again. "Where are you staying?"

"I thought I was staying at the House."

But they didn't allow guests. "Don't worry about me, I can find a place." Morgan told them. This was LA; he had to be able to get a hotel room.

Dr. Bennett smiled. "Rooms at the Langham it is." She was already pulling out her phone.

Reid groaned. "Milly! No!"

"Yes. I'll charge it to Dad's account, you know he would insist."

"But…but…"

By now Dr. Hartmann was chuckling. "Good luck in stopping her Spence." He looked over at Morgan. "She never does this, you know. Drives her Dad nuts. He keeps trying to spoil her and all she cares about is her mud."

"Mud?"

"I'm getting one of the cottage suites." Dr. Bennett told them

"Good god peaches!" Apparently this was a bit much, even for Thom.

"We need a private place to talk that doesn't have a bed in it."

"Mud?" Where the hell did they get mud?

"Long story," Reid replied. "I already left my bag at the House."

"We'll get it for you." Dr. Hartmann replied. "We ought to change anyway. Meet you there? I assume you two, um, have a lot to talk about. Quid tu facies licuit?"

Reid smiled; something with a lot more emotion that Morgan had seen before. "Yes."

"All right," Dr. Hartmann smiled in return and took Dr. Bennett's elbow to lead her away.

Reid held up a finger to stop the conversation. "Where did you park?"

"In a garage on Wilson, but I have no clue where I am now."

"This way," Reid led him back out the way they came then down the path that brought them there. A little further on, they emerged on Wilson and Morgan had his bearings. Half a block later and they were in the car.


	12. Part 2: Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**S. Wilson Ave  
Southbound  
Pasadena, CA  
10/14/05**

**Morgan**

"Take a right out of the garage." Reid told him. "We don't profile each other. Why did you have to keep digging?"

"Because I need to know the people I work with. I need to know that they're okay." Morgan took the turn as soon as it was clear. "And Garcia made it sound like this big, spooky thing and then you wouldn't talk…"

"We have four undergraduates in the House." Reid told him, "All under sixteen. I was protecting them and Thom and Milly."

"From us?"

"From everyone. Even freaks deserve a safe place to grow up."

Morgan looked over at him. "You're not a freak."

"Yes I am. Take a right when the street ends."

"Got it."

They were to the end of the street. Then Reid spoke again. "Are you going to be able to keep working with me?"

"Maybe."

"If you don't I'm off the team."

"What?" Morgan looked over again. "Why?"

"Hotch said that I didn't have to say anything until I passed probation, but I had to tell everyone when I did. I was going to when we got back. If you wouldn't be comfortable with 'a kid' on the team, even after working with me for a year, then he wouldn't trade away experienced people for me." Reid shrugged a little. "It's logical. The kind of skills and instincts you get from experience can't be learned in the classroom. At the end of this road you're going to take a very sharp u-turn left."

"Yeah, well, I don't care how old you are." The more he thought about it, Morgan realized, the less he cared. "I've worked with rookie cops your age that had less chops and were more of a pain in the ass. I was just going to give you a hard time about being the kid brother on the team."

Reid smiled a little. "That would be all right. Then what is this about?"

"Those two." Reid was right; it was a real sharp left turn. "Are you sure this isn't a driveway?"

"No, it's a road. They meant the speed limit though; it can get tight in here. Is it because they're still minors or because there are two of them?"

"Both. I don't know." Morgan sighed. "Which is easier? When do I turn again?"

"A while. California doesn't have a Romeo and Juliette law, intercourse with a minor is a felony, period. Even between two minors, they're technically committing statutory rape on each other."

"Seriously? In California?"

"Yeah. For the record I haven't committed any felonies. And I don't intend to."

"Ever?"

"Yes, ever. And I happen to consider myself committed and faithful. And I know they do as well." Reid looked over with a somewhat embarrassed smile. "Which is more than I ever planned to tell anyone at the Bureau so please don't share."

Illegal before eighteen and faithful after meant…okay. But also good to know, at least where the other two were concerned. "I won't. But I'll be honest; it's not the easiest thing to believe."

"I never said it was _easy_, I just said I was doing it." Reid grinned at him. "Granted being on the other side of the country most of the time is a huge help. It would also violate the Honor Code."

Bet it wasn't easy. "The Honor Code? I think you mentioned that before."

"The CalTech Honor Code. 'No member of the Caltech community shall take unfair advantage of any other member of the Caltech community.' Ever. Period. For any reason." Reid said that like it was a matter of gospel. "Take that right up there."

"There?" Morgan slowed. "Okay, that _has_ to be a driveway."

"No, it's a shortcut. Careful, it's an uphill with some hairpin turns. Take it slow and at the end take a left."

Morgan took it slow and was grateful when the road opened out onto a larger thoroughfare. "If everyone consents how is it taking unfair advantage?" Which was the kind of question you'd use to get into the other guy's head, see it from his point-of-view.

"They wouldn't ruin my career, for one. And Thom is a ward of the State; the University is acting as his guardian. If he was technically raped on campus they'd transfer him to a foster home. He would lose his position as well. I wouldn't do that to him. I also wouldn't want to cross Milly's father."

"Oh?"

"For one thing he's…well, maybe we should wait to explain that when we get there."

"Okay, what's the other thing? And where am I turning?"

"You're not; this street ends at the hotel. The other thing is that her Dad loves her and is very protective and is a very successful attorney." Morgan shuddered. "Yeah." Reid nodded. "He'd sue me, the Bureau, the University and possibly the City of Pasadena and the State of California just to cover all his bases, which is not to say that he doesn't like me or Thom…"

"…he just wants to keep his little girl his 'little girl' as long as he can." Morgan guessed, "At least in this respect."

"Exactly."

"He know about the three of you?"

For the first time Morgan saw Reid disquieted at a question. "I don't believe so. We haven't discussed it with him. Milly and I are getting married next year, which we've only begun discussing with him, and we plan to tell him that Thom is going to be renting a room from us in DC." Reid managed a sheepish smile. "The University believes Thom is openly homosexual, which he is, more or less. Milly lives up there by the way."

"Right." Up there was already in a neighborhood of large, lavish homes, but that street was gated off with security. Make that a _very_ successful attorney. One look at the hotel confirmed that. "We cannot afford this place. So you think he'll approve the whole marriage thing?" Wait a minute… "Wait. You're engaged?"

"Yeah. Since, um, 2002."

"You really haven't told anyone anything, have you?"

Reid frowned. "I didn't think it was professional to bring your private life to work."

"Not with the work we do. Team members need to get to know each other."

"…and I didn't want to be teased about it by someone who doesn't know where the lines are." Reid said, very pointedly.

Ouch. Morgan was quiet a moment. "I suppose I deserve that. I'm sorry."

"Accepted."

"Now about the hotel?"

"Mr. Bennett has an open account here for clients; Milly put the room on that. It's the closest to both their house and campus, and he just likes it. He takes everyone here to brunch every Sunday, says it reminds him of home. England." Reid sighed. "He'll probably want to have the reception here. He put me up here one year when I had to come back early from Spring Break and the House was being painted."

"Why didn't you go home for Spring Break?"

"I did for a few days." Reid took a deep breath.

"Part of the long part of this story?" Morgan asked as they pulled in. "Along with three of you and why they were protecting you back there?"

"Yeah. I'll warn you, they don't tolerate teasing very well."

"Good to know." Morgan couldn't wait to hear the rest.

**The Langham Huntington Resort  
Shamrock Cottage  
1401 S. Oak Ave  
Pasadena CA**  
**10/14/05**

This so-called cottage was officially nicer than his apartment.

It came with a very tasteful living room, a small dining room off to the side, a small yet complete kitchen, two large bedrooms, each with their own baths, a powder room and a patio. It also had three flat screens, two fireplaces and network access if they needed it.

And it came with a fully stocked honor bar. Morgan called the front desk, confirmed that the room was on Mr. Bennett's account and yes, it had been confirmed with Mr. Bennett, told them to charge the honor bar for the week-end to his card, and went for a Heineken. "Beer?" He asked Reid.

Reid gave him the 'really?' look for a long moment.

Oh. Right. "Damn it, you keep acting twenty-two." Gah. "No wonder they have all this soda in here. Coke?"

"Please. Good to know the act older than your age thing is working."

"It is. It has been." Morgan passed over the soda. He wasn't going to cross the line but he _had_ to... "You know, I'm still having trouble with the 'never' part."

"Morgan! I told you, I never committed a felony."

"Yeah, but that's a specific standard. And as I recall you and Thom were roommates."

For a moment Morgan had the distinct pleasure of seeing Reid look very human and very guilty. "I moved out when I turned eighteen." He admitted, quietly. "Are you having fun with this?"

Reid is nineteen mostly eighteen, Morgan thought. Reid is a good agent. Reid is in love with two people. Reid is human but he holds himself to the kind of standard that made him voluntarily stop before he crossed that line. Reid is a good person, and a good person to have as a friend. "I'm working on it."

They both turned when there was a knock at the door.


	13. Part 2: Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**The Langham Huntington Resort  
Shamrock Cottage  
1401 S. Oak Ave  
Pasadena CA**  
**10/14/05**

**Morgan**

Morgan had to admit, he was enjoying the evening more than he had expected.

When Drs. Bennett and Hartmann, now Milly and Thom, had arrived in jeans and t-shirts, they no longer looked like college professors. They looked like college _kids_, young ones as well. And when Reid came out from changing and getting out of his contacts he looked about the same age. It felt vastly more honest of them, at least to him and yeah, he was glad of it.

Trust issues. Right.

When he went to change he couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

"You know, he is going to ask every nosy, intrusive question he can think of." Reid informed them. "We're not going to have any privacy left."

"Oh we figured that much, Spencer." Thom had replied. "But we've decided to play along."

"We agree with your assessment." Milly continued. "He is a natural leader. If he accepts us odds are the others will as well. And if they accept what we are then they'll be more accepting of you, which is valuable in its own right."

"But you two shouldn't have to give up your privacy in order to help me gain acceptance."

"True that." Thom replied. "But these are the people who protect you when you're out fighting monsters. The more they accept you the better they'll protect you, subconsciously if nothing else. And keeping you safe is vastly more valuable to us than our privacy."

Reid was quiet a moment. "Thank you." He finally said, in a voice thick with emotion.

At that moment, knowing that they were willing to be that open, Morgan decided not to ask. Maybe he should try trusting for once.

Instead they settled in around the patio table and ordered dinner and he started getting to know them. They asked what brought them out to Cali and that started them talking about the Tommy Killer. Reid went into a ramble about Graney's motivations and psychological issues. After a good ten minutes or so of Reid monopolizing the conversation Morgan stopped him. "And he just did it for the attention. Yeah, we get it Reid." A faintly hurt, embarrassed look flitted across Reid's features, but he stopped, thank god.

Thom shot him a glare of ice at that point, and Milly turned to him, with a smile both teasing and pointed. "Didn't anyone ever teach you that interrupting is rude?"

Huh? "I'm sorry?"

"Accepted," she turned back to Reid. "Why _Death and the Maiden_? I would think that if he just wanted to get the attention of the local police he'd go for something much less esoteric, popular music lyrics or something?"

Reid flashed her a smile and went right back into his theory while Morgan sat there, a little stunned, and tried to figure out what just happened. Either they were actually enjoying listening to him, which was possible out here in nerdville, or…no, he caught a look they traded. Well, maybe _and_, they were enjoying it but they were also indulging Reid's apparent need to ramble. He had always suspected Reid was mildly, or a bit more than mildly, autistic and rambling on for a while tended to make people with that suite of issues feel calmer and more comfortable. They were indulging him because it probably felt good to him and that's what you do when you care about someone. Being told to stop felt uncomfortable and awkward and embarrassing, and yeah, if someone made one of his sisters feel awkward and embarrassed he'd snap at them too. In other words, they were defending him, no less so than when they had squared off against him in the courtyard earlier.

Interesting.

Eventually the ramble petered out dinner was delivered, and Morgan turned to Milly. "Okay, I have to know, mud?"

She laughed, "My monkeys."

"Monkeys?"

"That's what I call them. Actually they're a species of microbe I found in a sample of mud taken from Mono Lake."

"And what's so special about these microbes?"

"Okay, so DNA, double helix, like a twisted ladder, right? The uprights of that ladder include a phosphate ion to link the sugar molecules together, to give the entire thing structure. Arsenic sits right below phosphorus on the Periodic Table, the two are very similar. That's how arsenic kills; it replaces the phosphorus in your DNA, your DNA falls apart and very quickly your entire system falls apart. A few years back a team from NASA's Astrobiology lab…"

"Wait, astrobiology?"

"Yeah."

"As in life on other planets?"

"Yeah," she smiled as the other two started chucking at his obvious amazement. "…found a _Halomonadaceae_ family of proteobacteria in Mono Lake that appeared to be able to replace the phosphorous in its DNA with arsenic and keep going. Not happily, but it did keep going. But the research team received criticism when it was found that they couldn't remove all of the phosphorus from the solution they were using to test the microbes and they couldn't prove if this was just an earlier stage of evolution that happened to be preserved in Mono Lake. So JPL, the Jet Propulsion Lab here at CalTech came up with a phosphorus-free solution, put together a team, a small team, to go look for more evidence and I landed a slot. Sure enough, we found a different microbe that so far seems to love arsenic, and the more the better."

"Okay, so why do these microbes matter?"

"Well the standard definition of an environment required to create life includes specific ratios of six major elements, Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Sulfur, Hydrogen and Phosphorous. Every living thing on our tree of life, which came out of our genesis if you will, requires those elements to exist. If we can prove that there is a living being that does not require one of those elements to exist then we have exponentially increased the number of potential environments where we might find life. So if we can prove that this microbe is from another genesis, another tree of life, we can use it to establish testing equipment to look for other forms of life. And if we can do it by the deadline that equipment will go up on the next Mars Rover in 2011."

Morgan was stunned. He didn't really talk about it but he was a sci-fi nut. Not the relatively new stuff like Star Wars and Star Trek, no he preferred old-school, Asimov, Heinlein, Vonnegut. Now he just had to start laughing. "Wait, you are actually working on an honest-to-god NASA project to find life on Mars?"

Milly chuckled along with him and laughed. "Yeah, if I can prove that my monkeys are alive and aren't a new variant of _Halomonadacea. _First I have to get them to reproduce, and then I have to see if they will evolve to accept phosphorus. That would mean that they were a life form from another tree of life adapting to our conditions, not a life form from our tree adapting to Mono Lake."

"So what's the problem?"

"I can't get them to reproduce." She admitted. "The stronger the concentration of arsenic in the solution the happier they seem to be, but they still refuse to do the deed on camera. And I'm at the upper limit of arsenic I can use without getting permission from the Healthy and Safety Committee."

"And they don't want to give you permission because of your age." Morgan guessed.

"No, because I'm a fairly new post grad. If they actually knew my age I'd never stand a chance. I'd be off the team in a heartbeat." She sighed, "Politics, the bane of scientists everywhere."

At that point desert arrived, complements of the hotel, some kind of ice cream sundaes. "Not in my department, thank the Lord." Thom pointed out after the waiters had gone.

"That's because all you ever ask for are pens and paper."

"True that."

"What do you do?" Morgan asked Thom. He passed on the ice cream, not worth the running he'd have to do.

"I'm a Mechatronics engineer."

"A what?"

He laughed. "The field combines Mechanical engineering, Electronic engineering, Computer engineering, Software engineering, Control engineering, and Systems Design engineering. They used to call it 'robotics' but it encompasses so much more these days they changed the name."

"He also studied art and design." Milly pointed out. "He's getting quite the reputation for his work."

"So what are you working on these days?" Morgan asked.

"I'm part of the JPL team that's designing the next Mars Rover." Thom replied with a grin. "She's going to be a beauty."

Morgan was laughing again. It was like being in a sci-fi novel or something. He looked over at Reid. "Why the hell did you join the FBI?"

Reid put up an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Your… your people are out here, your family is out here." He gestured to the other two people at the table. "They're doing this amazing work out here. Why did you leave all this and move to DC?"

The table was silent a moment. "You two helped save a woman's life, just this morning." Milly pointed out, quietly. "And saved how many more potential victims? And you'll do it again next week. What you two have already done is vastly more important than anything we could ever do in our lives."

They all digested that for a moment. Then Morgan spoke up again. "Okay, here's another one. How did you three all end up together? I mean, sharing a dorm is one thing, but you all study different disciplines. And if you two are anything like him," He waved his second beer in Reid's direction, "Work is everything. So what brought you together?"

Morgan saw the faces around the table, how they reacted to his question, how they looked at each other. "Well now." Milly said. "That is a good question."


	14. Part 2: Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**The Langham Huntington Resort  
Shamrock Cottage  
1401 S. Oak Ave  
Pasadena CA**  
**10/14/05**

**Morgan**

They were all quiet for a long moment. "Tolstoy said it best, you know." Thom remarked, picking up his bottle of Dr. Pepper. "First line of Anna _Karenina_, "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." He raised his bottle, silent toast to the author. "I'll let you two off the hook for going first. After all my past is a matter of public record."

"Oh?" Morgan asked.

"As you might guess, I'm not from around here." As he spoke his words seemed to slow, and he loosened up on his accent. Now Morgan could hear that distinctive drawl of the Deep South. "My people are from Greenville, Mississippi. My Grandfather served in the Air Force, back in the fifties, back when it was the hottest, most technical thing going. When he was finished with his time in he moved back to Greenville and started a family. Unfortunate time and place for it. You ever hear of a man named Samuel Stoddard?"

"It's familiar." Morgan replied. Normally he would just ask Reid. "I want to say cult leader."

Thom nodded. "My parents started following him not long after my eldest brother was born. It's an unusual case study; Stoddard is the first cult leader to truly exploit the power of the social network. Back then he had his followers go from church to church recruiting, but unlike most cults he never asked anyone to follow him physically, to move to any sort of a compound or to leave their current church."

"Then how does he work?"

"He tells people that if they live according to his rules they can be assured that they will have close, loving, successful families, without having to worry about things like teen sex or violence or corruption or children leaving their parents behind to go off to school or the big city and never return. Parents who are having trouble adapting to modern society just lap his stuff right on up. Follow his twenty-nine simple rules and your children will turn into loving, faithful Christians who will be around your table every Sunday and worship you right next to God until He calls you home. Just keep buying his books and going to his seminars and sending your children to his summer camps and getting your friends on board to do the same. And when there are enough of you take over your church and get rid of your preacher and hire on one of his and then your whole church will be a cult and if it's small enough the whole town too. "

Morgan winced. "That really happened?"

Milly looked over. "It's called steeplejacking. It's actually a growing problem facing the more mainstream denominations. Don't confuse this with mainstream Christianity just because Stoddard uses proof-text from the Bible to support his claims."

"Then his followers get on their blogs and Facebook and everything else and brag about the perfection of their lives until their friends want to sign on, and the cycle begins again in the next town over. Anyway it worked for my folks until their little freak was born." Thom said. "I'm surprised they didn't kill me before I turned two."

"Oh?"

"Stoddard tells parents to stick to a strict schedule from birth and to ignore their cries, to start breaking a child's selfish, sinful nature. I was number five out of twelve, I think and born with Sensory Processing Disorder issues, I never did anything but cry. Stoddard recommends training your children using techniques picked up from animal training, none of them ever worked with me. And Stoddard tells parents to avoid medical treatment if at all possible, to homeschool, and not to teach reading until a child is at least eight so as not to contaminate their souls with anything worldly. But I started reading on my own when I was about a year and a half…"

"Under two?" Morgan had to clarify that.

"It's called hyperlexia." Reid replied. "Defined as developing spontaneous awareness of sound-symbol relationships and thereby being able to read simple words before the age of two, complex sentences before the age of three and in some case being able to solve polynomials before the age of four. All of that in exchange for taking longer to develop an understanding of social and conversational conventions and nuances. It's actually considered a marker for, well, our kind of genius."'

"…which made my parents think I was possessed." Thom went on. "A child who could do that, well, no child could do that so it must be a demon inside me speaking out. Thank God I had my Granddaddy there. See Stoddard preaches that the oldest male in the family is the Patriarch, he answers directly to God for any sins in the family and so he is responsible and must be obeyed. It's a strict hierarchy, the eldest male, his sons, their sons, their wives or his daughters, and then the girl children right above the animals. This meant that my parents had to obey and indulge Grandaddy Hart. He had an apartment in the attic, and I ended up growing up there."

"In your Grandfather's apartment?"

"A lot of kids have it worse. So when Mom and Dad wouldn't feed me for all the crying and I was at risk for failure to thrive he cleaned out his sock drawer for a crib and started bringing home formula with his pension money. When they insisted I stay still on a blanket like the dog he put up a baby gate at the top of the stairs and let me play as I wanted. When I started reading he put a stop to the exorcism they planned and brought me to the doctor for testing. And when they refused to enroll me in any kind of school he said fine he'd teach me himself. And not with Stoddard's so-called curriculum either, he used the same stuff they used in the local school district and then at the local community college; only he let me take it as hard and fast as I could."

"So you finished high school early." Morgan looked over at Reid. "That sounds familiar."

Thom nodded, his eyes starting to shine a bit with the memories. "When I was thirteen he ran out of stuff to teach me and decided it was time for me to go off to college. He remembered that, in his words, all the smart egg-heads that even the Officers listened to came out of CalTech so he had me apply here. I moved into Galois House that fall, and finally started getting all the therapy and stuff they said I needed."

"What happened?" Morgan asked.

"A year after I got here my friend Jimmy was sent off to Stoddard's boy's camp. He confessed to being gay-curious and his parents disowned him, gave him up to the state, but not before his older brothers and cousins beat him so badly he ended up in a coma for three weeks. When he confessed he named me, said what we had been doing by the creek was all my idea. He was right of course, not that it was all that much. I got a letter from my parents sent the same day they sent out the forms giving me up, telling me what a sick, disgusting, perverted…"

"Stop," Milly said quietly, as Reid reached over and took his hand.

Thom cleared his throat and hung on. "The next day I got a letter from Granddaddy Hart telling me that he'd work something out with the court so I could still visit him or he'd come out to visit me, either one, but it was better if I stayed out here a while. Three days later he was hit by a truck walking home from the grocery store. Hit and run, or so they said, but given that he stopped that exorcism and let a demon remain in their community….so after that Mr. Bennett, Milly's Dad, came in as my advocate and worked with the University and the State of California, since I'd been here long enough to be a resident. I became a ward of the University and I've been here ever since; Cal Tech's official orphan child at the tender age of fourteen."

"And there was no other family to take you in?" Morgan asked quietly.

"All my aunts and uncles are in the cult." Thom shook his head. "They would have killed me. No, my family threw me away for being a freak. They didn't want me anymore."

"Ouch."

The table was quiet a moment while Thom got back under control. Then Reid spoke up. "I guess I'll go next."


	15. Part 2: Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**The Langham Huntington Resort  
Shamrock Cottage  
1401 S. Oak Ave  
Pasadena CA**  
**10/14/05**

**Morgan**

"Well, you, um, know I graduated high school when I was twelve." Reid started. "And you know I, um, ended up with three doctorates before I joined the FBI. I actually wasn't homeschooled or tutored or anything like pretty much everyone else in the House was. I went through the Las Vegas public school system, in the usual classes with all the other kids before I got my scholarship to CalTech."

"They let you do that?"

"They didn't know what else to do with me. I was going through two grade levels worth of curricula a year and that was with throwing all the extra work they could at me and helping my Mom with her work when she needed it. She, um, taught 15th century literature at UNLV. The problem was that Las Vegas High School has over six thousand students enrolled in any given year. It's easy to…to not be noticed by the faculty unless you ask for attention. But the bullies always notice."

Morgan chuckled, "Yeah that they do."

Milly turned to look at him again, her eyes snapping. It was quickly becoming clear that she was the dominant here, more often than not. "Dismissing the issue before you hear it?"

"No." Hello red-head temper. And she had a way of putting people right on the spot, probably got it from her old man. "Look. I get bullied, all right. I was a jock in high school, yeah, but not at first. My freshman year I was five-foot- three, I weighted a buck twenty soaking wet, so trust me when I tell you I got my ass kicked every day. And yeah over the summer I hit the weights and I got lucky and grew six inches. But don't think it was about vanity or anything, it was about survival." Milly bit her lip and turned away. "What?"

Reid cleared his throat. When Morgan looked over he could tell that his friend was trying to keep control of his emotions. "I was in the library and, uh, Harper Hillman comes up to me and she tells me that, uh, Alexa Lisbon wants to meet me behind the field house. Alexa Lisbon is, like, easily the prettiest girl in school"

"So what happened?" Morgan asked. "Alexa wasn't there?"

"No, she was there. So was the entire football team. They, uh, stripped me naked and tied me to a goalpost. So many kids were there, you know, just watching."

"Nobody tried to stop them?"

"No. I begged them to but they just watched. And finally they got bored and they left. It was midnight when I finally got home."

"What did your folks say?"

"Nothing, actually."

"What?" Morgan couldn't have heard that right.

"My Mom is, um…she's schizophrenic. Paranoid schizophrenia is her official diagnosis. Um, she was having an episode and didn't even know I'd been gone. I couldn't tell anyone, if the school had gone to her they would have found out how sick she was and she would have been committed. Um, at the time Nevada didn't have any public lockdown facilities so she would have been sent to California or Utah and I wouldn't…I wouldn't have seen her again. When she took her meds she was the only respite I had. I was eleven and, well, it, um, only got worse after that."

"Hey." Thom said gently. "Just because you can't forget, that doesn't mean you have to remember today."

"I know." Reid gave him a grateful smile

Eleven years old. Jesus. Not like he could hide it either. And that was probably only the start. "So you never told anyone about it?" Morgan asked

"No. At first I thought if I didn't tell anyone I'd just forget, but, you know, eidetic memory. I can't…I can't forget. I spent the next few years terrified of the bullies at school, dodging CPS and even being afraid of Mom when her episodes got really bad. You know how that can get…"

"Yeah." They'd had some Unsubs like that, completely unpredictable. "Where was your Dad in all this?"

"Oh, Dad?" Just that quickly Reid flashed from misery to anger. "Dad left when I was seven. Yeah, their marriage was based entirely on physical passion, or so Mom told me when she wasn't…and when she couldn't keep up her end anymore, when taking care of a sick wife was too much of a _drag_, he took off. I remember that she knew she wasn't going to be able to take care of me so she _begged_ him to take me with him but he wouldn't even look at me when he left. He left a letter saying that I was too much for him to cope with, that I had too many issues for him to handle. No, he abandoned his sick wife and his freak of a son."

There we go with the freak again, Morgan thought. "So where's your Mom now?"

"Bennington Sanitarium in Las Vegas; it's a private facility, a good one, she's doing well there. When I turned eighteen, before I moved out to DC I had to have her involuntarily committed. She wasn't remembering to eat anymore, or take her meds, or shower and I wasn't going to be able to run home on week-ends to check on her and her doctors said it was the best thing for her. Milly's Dad helped me with it and with selling the house so we'd have enough to cover it." He chuckled a little, without humor. "I'm actually _her_ guardian now. When I was sixteen she ended up in the hospital on her first psych hold. You know, I kept hoping that if she took all her meds or if something new was discovered, something, somehow she'd be able to be the parent I knew she wanted to be. Somehow she'd be able to keep me safe. But when that happened, well, I knew it was never going to happen. Then a couple of kids from Las Vegas High ended up here at CalTech and…and it got a little rocky for a while."

Got a little rocky. "I wondered why you were giving Gideon so much slack when he was diagnosed with PTSD."

Reid managed most of a smile. "I know how hard it can be to recover from that one."

"Understandable." Understandable as all hell.

* * *

.

* * *

**Note**: Some dialogue taken from_ Criminal Minds _03x04 "Elephant's Memory". No copyright infringement intended


	16. Part 2: Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**The Langham Huntington Resort  
Shamrock Cottage  
1401 S. Oak Ave  
Pasadena CA**  
**10/14/05**

**Morgan**

Okay, sixteen, fourteen," Morgan said, looking from Reid to Thom. "Same year, so what happened to you that year?" He asked Milly.

She turned red in the cheeks, and Reid grabbed hold of her hand. "It's all right, love." She smiled at him and turned back to Morgan. "Sharon happened that year."

"Sharon?"

"My step-mother, Dad's second wife; she was a nurse's aide, actually met my Dad when I was being born."

Morgan blinked. "That's…ballsy."

"That's Sharon. He was already a junior partner then. He met my birth mother when one of the senior partners assigned him to cover some pro-bono work he'd agreed to do. Mom's first husband was abusive; she ended up in a shelter. I was born less than a year after her divorce."

"And that didn't last."

"Not at all. Battered woman syndrome, at least; right after I was born she divorced Dad and went back to husband number one. Because of the abuse charges Dad got custody. She was supposed to have visitation rights but she never looked back. Now here Dad was with a high pressure job and a new baby and Sharon, who always wanted to marry a wealthy lawyer, just stepped right into the gap."

"When did it go south?"

"After my brother Stevie was born. I'm the lucky one, I'm a trust fund baby, and I admit it. Dad inherited quite a lot and has cultivated it ever since and that and his hard work and ability allowed him to hire all the tutors and trainers I needed growing up, right from the time I started reading. But that was all attention and resources taken away from Sharon, which she did not appreciate. And then she got pregnant. It was bad enough that I wasn't a quiet, pretty little doll she could dress up and then shuttle off with a nanny when she was busy, now there's another child she didn't want sucking down more."

"Why didn't your Dad say anything?"

"Custody, he got lucky with me, Sharon is a bitch but she's not physically abusive and the courts are nearly always more likely to give custody to the mother over the father. He doesn't want to lose Stevie and I can't say that I blame him. I mean, given how busy Dad is and how Sharon takes pretty much all of his spare time I've really raised Stevie from when he was potty trained. But next year when Stevie goes off to boarding school and I move to DC I predict a very nasty divorce is going to happen."

"Ouch. So what did she do that year?"

"Well when I didn't start puberty on her schedule she…got involved. I was getting taller and not curvier and not starting any of the obvious signs of hormonal growth and putting on a fair amount of muscle…"

"Which couldn't have anything to do with you joining a rugby team." Thom pointed out.

"…and was far more interested in science and math than anything traditionally feminine. She decided that I wasn't just non-neurotypical, I had to be intersexed somehow as well; I simply must be hiding a testicle somewhere. So she started dragging me off to every doctor she could find for testing, all the while telling me that I was some kind of genderless, sexless broken freak that no one would ever want and…"

"Hey." Reid said quietly, squeezing her hand.

She calmed a little. "Finally after one particularly bad day Dad stepped in and told her to back off and leave me alone."

"Bad day?" Morgan asked.

Milly shook her head. "I am sorry but that is _not_ your business."

"Hey, if it's still going on…"

"It's not." Every inch of her said that was the end of it.

Right. "But overall your father got her to stop?" Morgan asked. He didn't want to think of things like…that still happening.

"The medical side, she still goes on about it, but it reflects on her jealousy and insecurity, not on me." Milly sighed. "It's all right, I have my work and Stevie to look after and these two. I certainly haven't told her about them, the private life of the family freak isn't any of her business."

"There you go again with the freak thing." Morgan shook his head. "Okay, I get where you're all coming from, but how did all that go to all this?"

Milly looked at the two younger men, who both nodded in agreement. "Well, not too long after that I finally hit puberty…."

They all fell quiet then, looking at each other, clearly trying to decide how much to tell. "And?" He prompted.

After a moment Thom answered. "And they started pressuring us to make choices, which we weren't about to do on their timetable."

"CalTech was the first safe place we all had." Reid pointed out. "It was the first place where we could…be who we were and pursue our own interests and…and real friendships without having to think about sex or sexuality."

"Was?" Morgan asked.

"Was," Milly responded. "They wanted reassurances we weren't ready to give them yet, wanted us to make decisions we hadn't even considered. So we considered and decided to stick together. Not the answer they wanted, but, well…" She shrugged, and for a moment Morgan found the defiant, adolescent energy he'd been waiting for.

"What happened?" He had to ask. For Reid's sake he was treating his friends like adults, and in the main they were acting like adults in return. But in the end they were still minors, and if something was going on he would deal with it.

"A meeting with the counselors," Reid replied, "Nothing illegal."

"Yeah, but it wasn't the same after." Thom pointed out.

"Because they broke trust," Morgan surmised. There were nods around the table. And these three have never broken trust with each other, he realized, not once. When the school broke trust they all fell back on the only thing they had left, each other. They were quiet a moment as everyone finished their ice cream. "So, I get why you wanted to be this back then." Morgan said, quietly. "And I get that you've all grown past all that and, you know, my opinion from another ten years out, that's a good thing. But why keep it up now?"

"Friendship," Reid replied.

"Family," Thom added.

Milly smiled at them both and got to the heart of it, "Love." She looked over to Morgan. "Intimacy is not the same as sexuality, you know. Helping each other through working out all our issues was, and continues to be, a very intimate act. You can't be that close through all that and not form bonds. We're family now, period. And once we're finally old enough and free we're setting up house in DC and living like one at last."

Morgan got the very distinct sense that a milestone had been reached. He could either accept that this was his friend's very unusual family, or he could reject it and in doing so reject the friend. Thing was, these were good people. They had figured out a way to make it in an adult world that was painful and unwelcoming, and had done it without help and in a way that gave them all the caring and support they needed without bringing harm or even bother to anyone else. He couldn't fault them for that. They did the best they could with what they had, he thought, and may have built something on top of it. "Well when the time comes if you all need help with any renovations let me know." He told them at last. "I'm pretty good with the handyman stuff."

That got him big smiles, and the sight of Reid relaxing down into the chair. "Thank you." He said.

"You're welcome."

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** This chapter comes with the very first cut scene, which might be a bit spoiler-ish, and can be found under the name _ladywhoknits2_ over on LiveJournal. It is open to all


	17. Part 2: Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**The Langham Huntington Resort  
Shamrock Cottage  
1401 S. Oak Ave  
Pasadena CA**  
**10/14/05**

**Morgan**

They were quiet a moment and then Thom spoke up. "Well, I'd say let's hit the gym tomorrow but we both have games. She has rugby in the morning; I have soccer in the afternoon."

"Which means we really ought to get home to bed," Milly pushed her chair back, stood up from the table, and made a small sound as she went a little pale and grabbed the edge. "Now why does my head feel all funny?" She asked as she sat back down.

"You too?" Reid asked. "I thought it was just me."

"Same here," Thom told them.

Uh-oh, Morgan thought as he went into cop mode. He looked them all over, and then at the table. They'd all had the same chicken dinners; they had been drinking soda from bottles, what had…wait. He reached over and pulled his now more or less melted sundae over and took a taste. "None of you have ever had anything to drink before, correct?"

"Correct." Milly replied.

"It's illegal." Reid pointed out. "And now you know why I always order soda."

"It's also against the Honor Code." Thom added. "In some convoluted manner."

Morgan pointed to the sundae. "I thought this was butterscotch sauce."

"It's not." Milly said as she toyed with the remains of hers. "But it is very tasty."

"Yeah, that would be the bourbon." Morgan informed her. "There has to be a good two shots in there. You three are lit."

The three of them looked at him in shock for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "That's why can't shut up tonight." Thom remarked.

Thankfully without prompting Milly pulled her keys out of her pocket and placed them on the table. "Fine then. I'm all of three blocks from here, it's not worth the trouble for a cab, I'll call the bellman and ask him to run me home in a golf cart."

"And I will go with you to make sure you get home safely." Reid said. "I have a badge and a gun. That ought to count for something."

Morgan chuckled. "Reid, you can barely shoot straight when you're sober. I'll get her home."

"The bellman doesn't need to know that. Besides, you can't leave Thom and me here alone for that long, the appearance of impropriety would be an issue. Wait." He turned to Thom. "How are you getting home?"

"Oh, you signed me out for the night." Thom informed him. "I'll just make myself comfortable on that sofa over there."

"And I'll give everyone a ride back to school when I walk back to pick up my car in the morning." Milly added.

"How are you going to explain this to your Dad?" Reid asked.

"Thankfully he's not home."

**The Langham Huntington Resort  
Shamrock Cottage  
1401 S. Oak Ave  
Pasadena CA**  
**10/15/05**

**Spencer**

Spencer woke to the feeling of someone settling on the mattress.

Now normally he would have been terrified to feel someone climbing in bed with him. Perhaps it was a familiar movement, or maybe a familiar smell, or else the air was just different in LA, but this time he wasn't afraid. He didn't even open his eyes. "Where's Morgan?" He managed to get out.

A warm body pressed him into the mattress as familiar fingers tucked back his hair and soft lips placed a kiss right under his ear. "In the shower," Thom said. "Any chance he takes his time?"

"Fifteen minutes at most." Spencer replied. He shrugged Thom off enough to find his glasses. "Is there coffee?"

"Yeah. Getting up?"

"Not with you here. That would be a misdemeanor." Between his usual state of morning and having his lover wake him up he was already rock hard. Thom chuckled when he added it up, which did not help. Spencer reached up, cupped the younger man behind the head, and pulled him down into a thorough good morning kiss. The morality might be questionable by some, he thought, but its well within legal bounds and I miss waking up to them.

Thom grew more serious a moment. "Do you know how hard it is to wake up to an empty bed next to mine every goddamn day?"

"They wouldn't have let me stay anyway." Spencer replied. He let Thom go with a lingering touch over his throat. "I am not…flying the flag in front of you. Go see if Milly is on her way."

"She is. We're ordering breakfast. Want your usual?"

"Please." Once Thom left Spencer went to the bathroom and considered tending to the pent-up energy that had accumulated since he found out they were going to LA. No, he decided to wait until bedtime when he could savor it, caught a quick shower, dressed appropriately, and headed out to the kitchen for coffee.

He had to smile as Morgan took one look and winced. "Really?" he asked as his phone rang, "Hey babygirl."

"Yeah." Safety orange was one of the official CalTech colors, and he was part of the cheering section for the day. "Good morning Garcia!" He called in the direction of the phone before heading to the small kitchen. There he found Thom and Milly monopolizing the coffee pot. "Good morning." He said, careful not to disturb the orange and white ribbon in her hair when he threaded his fingers into that silken cloud to hold her still for a kiss. She opened for that kiss, which he did not expect, her tongue teasing between his lips even as she curled an arm around his waist to hold him extremely close. Just as his head was starting to spin Thom deliberately brushed past his back on his way to the pot, and Spencer felt his breath on the back of his shoulder as Thom watched. For a moment, in the small, warm place with these people he felt so safe and so wanted and so loved it _ached_. "Two hundred and fourteen," he said quietly when the kiss finally broke. Two hundred and fourteen days until Milly's eighteenth birthday, the last of them to reach her majority.

"It's on a Wednesday, you know." She said as he let go but she didn't move away. "I think I'll rent this place for the rest of that week and week-end, if you two can get the time off." She found her coffee again.

"Damn straight," Thom pressed a quick kiss to the top of Spencer's spine and moved away to hoist himself up on the counter. "I already have that week off, condition of my future contract."

"I'll get the paperwork in as soon as I get back to DC." The team could live without him for a week given enough advanced notice, Spencer thought; I have a great deal of curiosity to satisfy. Where was that coffee? He stepped over to the sugar bowl to add more and gave it a stir. "So when you said you were 'thinking of me fondly' you weren't being entirely honest, were you?" He asked Milly, all gentle tease. "Not with that kind of good morning."

She turned russet red in the cheeks as Thom started chuckling and Morgan walked in looking for a refill. "Stevie's been reacting to Dad and Sharon fighting all the time." She admitted. "He's been having sleep issues."

Morgan looked very confused. "How does that connect?" He asked.

"You don't want to know." Thom told him.

"Really don't." Milly agreed.

Morgan looked over and Spencer just shook his head. Not a chance, some things they did keep private. That was what made a…a trio something more, that privacy. And right now that pent-up energy was the only thing they all could share. "Right," Morgan said. Thankfully someone knocked right then. "That's breakfast."

Breakfast was all about the do you remember stories, both of memorable cases and college adventures. Somewhere between explaining the science behind the annual Milikman Pumpkin Drop and why Hogan's Alley was Not A Fair Test Spencer realized that they were, in a very real way, weaving together two families. That's the best analogy, he thought, in a way this is my family of origin, my people as Morgan just said. After all, Mom would have loved it here; she would have been perfectly at home in this place with these people. I wish I could have brought her here; it could have been our home. But then I married in to the BAU. Now it's the first week-end together and thankfully everyone is getting along.

This might just work after all.


	18. Part 2: Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI building  
Quantico, VA  
10/17/05**

**Morgan**

"So, how were the games?" Elle asked.

"Not bad." Morgan replied. They had returned to DC yesterday, only to have Reid turn around this morning and accompany Gideon on an inmate interview. Reid had said, in clear, direct terms that Morgan could tell the rest of the team what he liked about the week-end and about his personal life. I'm tired of hiding, he'd said, either people accept me based on my performance to date or not. So he was sitting in the conference room looking over the piles of files they were working on, telling Elle, JJ and Garcia about the week-end. "They're not Division 1 and, you know, soccer and rugby aren't my games but they did all right. Rugby won, soccer lost by a point I think. Thom got three goals though, MVP easy. And then they pranked the other team."

"How?" Elle asked

"Some kind of dye or something. The sprinklers on the field went on, everyone got soaked, and the next thing you know not only do their jerseys have their number they also have their GPA on the back. Then they started chanting 'last in athletics, first in academics'."

"I remember that." Garcia cooed as the others two started to laugh. "Hey, it's a point of school pride. We have some of the longest losing streaks in history because we never recruit athletes."

"Yeah, well, I wish I would have been there. Soccer is more my game than football right now." JJ's date had clearly not gone well. "Is Thom cute?"

"Uhhh, that would be robbing the cradle." Elle pointed out. "It's bad enough that Romeo is doing it."

"Yeah, and besides Dr. Hartmann kicks for the other team," Morgan added.

"Is anyone else surprised to hear this about Reid?" Garcia asked. "I mean, of all people?"

"It's always the quiet ones." Elle murmured.

"The question is can we still work with him?" Morgan said, "'Cause they're planning to move to DC next year. Now that I've seen it and knowing that Milly's dad knows and is good, at least with Reid, I don't have a problem."

"Is he?" Elle asked.

Morgan chuckled. "I caught up with them at breakfast after church." He'd skipped the BBQ, and spent the night in a sweet little club with some fine Cali ladies, one of whom kept him company until morning. The week-end was redeemed after all. "You should have seen him, all up in his suit with his hair combed down and her Dad putting him on the spot. Yes Sir, No Sir and her little Doogie Houser brother not helping at all." They all laughed. "Oh I am so glad it was not me."

"They won't be the first poly family I know." Garcia nodded. "I have no problem with my junior G-man and his tribe."

"Whatever it takes to keep your head in the game," Elle agreed. "I have two little brothers back in New York; I don't mind having one here."

"I'm in too." JJ said. "But this can't leave this room. Between his age and having a seriously alternative family Reid would lose all credibility in the field if the locals found out."

"It matters?" Garcia asked. "I mean hello, Unsub, priority."

"In some of the rural areas," JJ told them. "Sometimes they overlook me because I read as secretary so they talk where I can hear. I have heard Sheriffs chewing out guys who don't want to work with someone whose sexuality might be questionable, or with a woman, or with a black man. About the only person on the team universally respected is Hotch."

"Well, of course." Elle said. "Hotch is practically Hoover."

"Reid thought of that." Morgan informed them. "As soon as she turns eighteen Reid and Milly are going to get engaged and they're going to give her father the perfect white wedding of his daddy dreams. Then Thom's going to be their roommate and they're all going to swap powers of attorney. So if anyone asks he's engaged to a pretty little redhead biology professor and they're planning an Episcopal Church wedding."

"Episcopal?" Garcia spoke up. "Reid?"

"Dad," Morgan corrected.

"Good. If for some reason it comes up that will be a big help." JJ looked over at Reid as he walked in the room. "But not if he keeps dressing like that. Are you two done for the day?" She asked Elle and Garcia.

"I am!" Garcia chirped.

"Not me." Elle sighed. "I have to go give a guest lecture at the Academy in an hour, 'How to interview rape victims.'"

"What are we doing?" Reid asked; a wary look on his face.

"Buying you a new wardrobe," JJ replied. "You keep dressing like a boy trying to look like a police detective for Halloween. I cannot tell you the number of times I've had to explain to one cop after another why we brought a kid along."

Reid looked down at his short sleeved shirt, bad tie and chinos. "This is what the advisors at Galois House told me cops would wear."

"Which they probably got from TV," JJ sighed. "We're going to go make you look like a college professor. I think you'll have a better chance of pulling off looking older that way."

"How are you going to explain a…a college professor on the team?"

"Oh you'll explain that the minute you open your mouth." JJ was already rising, with Garcia on her heels.

"Reid." Morgan flagged him down. "I don't know how much experience you have with…I don't want to say normal…"

Reid quickly got it. "Neurotypical and non-neurotypical are the polite terms."

"…neurotypical women but when they want to make you over just nod and smile. Nod and smile," he gave Reid and example and soon enough he was nodding and smiling as they followed JJ and Garcia down to the bullpen. But as Reid obediently followed the other two he stopped at the younger man's desk.

Now pretty much everyone kept some photos on their desk. He had one of his mom and his sisters, and one of his dad in uniform from back when. Hotch had Haley. Gideon had an immense collection. otReid had just one of an older, sharp faced woman with short blond hair, her nose in a book, the light catching her just right. Morgan always assumed that was his mom, and now he knew it was a reminder of a healthy moment. But now he also knew something was missing, so he'd filled up one of those folding frames that held two small pictures of the size just right for a desk. On the left was one of the pictures Morgan snapped before they headed to the airport on Sunday, a picture of Mr. Bennett with Reid, Thom, Milly and her little brother Stevie, all of them all big grins for the picture. On the right was just Thom and Milly, arms around each other, looking happy and wistful, like they missed him and wanted him home.

But when he went to put it on Reid's desk something else was there. It was a pencil sketch, a little bigger than the usual desk picture, of a younger Reid and a younger Milly. The artist had captured the small smile and shy blush of a girl just realizing her power, and the overcome amazement of a boy realizing that she'd been right there in from of him all this time, and every detail of the ribbon Reid was tying into Milly's hair. At the bottom it was signed _TH, 3/11/02._

Right.

Morgan smiled as he put the folding frame next to the other two. Welcome to the unit kid, he thought, nice to have you here at last.

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** End of Part 2

This chapter includes a cut scene over at the LiveJournal account for this story. The link is at the bottom of my profile. Warning for potential spoilers


	19. Part 3: Chapter 19

_**Part 3**_

_The past is never dead. It's not even past.  
- William Faulkner_

* * *

**Chapter 19**

**1425 Hillcrest Ave  
Pasadena, CA  
10/22/05**

**Milly**

It was boys' night out tonight. Mark Bennett had taken his son and his daughter's friend Thom out to a soccer game and dinner. His wife had invited a few of her girlfriends over for drinks and gossip and whatever was amusing the fashionable Hollywood matrons this week. His daughter was hiding in her suite. Or rather, Milly wanted to be hiding in her suite. She rather liked the way the house was set up even though it was a Spanish Mission style pile, too grand and then done in the contemporary style that suited Sharon but set her teeth on edge. The so-called children's wing had four bedrooms that opened off a central 'play space', which came complete with a wet bar. She and Stevie each took a bedroom, and then she took a third for an office, leaving the 'play room' as a family room where she and Stevie could hang out well away from Sharon and her gatherings. She'd put an electric teakettle in there, and a coffee maker, and a microwave for Stevie to heat snacks, and a small dishwasher so she didn't even have to bother Marta with keeping up the space.

The problem was she was out of sugar.

She had hoped she could just sneak downstairs, fill her sugar jar, and creep back with no one the wiser. But just as she was getting the main sugar bin put back in the cupboard Milly heard a voice behind her. "Oh, look who's come to join the party!"

Oh hell.

Milly didn't have to turn around to know that the women had been drinking; she could smell them as soon as they came in the room and there were pitchers of mixed drinks on the counters. She sighed and turned and saw Sharon and four of her friends. "Oh. No, I'm, um, I'm going right back up to bed. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Oh stay." Sharon slurred. "We were just talking about makeovers, how we were all thinking it was time for one." She took another healthy sip of whatever she was drinking. "You're pretty due for one too, aren't you?"

"Um, no, I don't…I don't do that sort of thing. Excuse me." She tried to scoot by and head back upstairs to lock herself in.

"Don't run off." One of the women said, blocking her escape. She gestured an arm around Milly's shoulders and guided her back into the kitchen. "You know, there's a lot you could do, to make yourself look at least passably attractive." The other women nodded in agreement, "Make-up, eyebrow waxing, a facial. As it is you're just so…bleh."

"Yeah," one of the other women said. "You're an embarrassment to your mother, you know."

"You should be too ashamed to go out." Another agreed.

"Oh, give it up Bette." Sharon told her. "The girl's a fag hag, and always will be. I mean look at her, she hangs around with two fags all the time. And all this haggy hair," she reached out and grabbed hold of Milly's hair and gave it a hard pull.

"Stop it!" Milly felt a few strands come free as she pulled herself out of Sharon's grip and twisted away from her and her friends. She could take a lot of taunting and teasing, but after what happened touching crossed a line. "I'm going to bed." She told them firmly, and headed for the door again.

"All she needs is a decent cut." Bettie said, getting between Milly and the door again, "To start with."

"No, my dad said I can't cut my hair." Milly told them. Invoking an outside authority usually worked in these cases. "Excuse me." She didn't want to push Bette out of the way, but she would if she had to.

"Dad, Dad, Dad." Sharon said. "You're not his favorite you know. I'm the one he _fucks_." As Milly turned around Sharon put down her drink, opened a drawer, pulled out the large kitchen shears, and grabbed a fistful of Milly's hair again. "I think a hair cut is a _fantastic_ idea."

"NO!" Years of training took over. Milly set her balance, pivoted on her right foot, and sank her elbow into Sharon's stomach. Then as Sharon's grip weakened she pulled free, grabbed the nearest weapon and slung a pitcher of palomas into Sharon's face.

Sharon stopped in her tracks and gasped as she was drenched with icy-cold alcohol. It ran through her hair and off her face, ruining her shirt and stripping her make-up into thick, running lines. "You little bitch!" Sharon screeched as the other women gasped and tittered. "I am going to beat the living shit…"

"That's enough!" Thundered a voice from the hallway. They all turned to see Mark Bennett standing there, red with fury. Behind him Stevie looked pale and afraid, and Thom looked like he was banking down his own anger. "My apologies ladies, for cutting the evening short. I will be arranging rides home for all of you. I suggest you wait in the front parlor." The amused women murmured to each other as they headed down the hallway to wait by the front door.

"Dad, she's drunk, and she was going to cut my hair…." Milly began.

"I saw." Mark replied. "And I appreciate your restraint. Now take your brother upstairs. Thom, you can stay the night, yes?" Thom nodded shortly. "Then the guest room in the south wing is yours. I shall see you all at breakfast."

Her restraint. One burst attack would have very likely killed Sharon, or at least done permanent injury. Throwing the alcohol had stopped her without doing any harm. Milly was infinitely glad that her father recognized that. "Yes, sir," she took the boys and headed upstairs.

The fight began as soon as the last cab left.

* * *

**Thom**

Later that night some instinct drew Thom to Milly's office. She was sitting in the window seat in the dark, in the moonlight, in her robe, looking out at the stars. "Can't sleep?"

"Watching Mars," he heard her sigh, saw her breath fog the window. "I wish I could go there."

"It would be very lonely." He pointed out.

"Yes, but Sharon and her friends wouldn't be there."

Oh. That's what this was about. "They were drunk." He pointed out. "And they're stupid. You're beautiful."

She was quiet a moment, looked down at her hands in her lap. "You would think she couldn't make me feel otherwise by now."

"Unfortunately she knows your buttons." He tried to smile, but failed. "She's a narcissist, peaches, and she's insecure and she's jealous of the relationships you have. She thinks if she can destroy you we'll all turn to her, which won't ever happen."

"Sure about that?" She asked very quietly.

Thom sighed and cupped the back of her head, drawing her to his shoulder. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I can't reassure you like he can."

Milly sighed, a gentle breath across his throat. "I just miss him so much sometimes."

"If it's bad we can call him. He'll come back."

"No." She pushed away and sat up, drying her eyes and tossing her head, her fierce confidence returning. "No, he needs to be there. He needs to do what he's doing. He's saving lives, that matters more than anything, you know that. And I don't…I don't want you telling him anything."

"Peaches…"

"Spencer can't focus and stay safe if he's worrying about me. I'll just…work on avoiding Sharon, you know, spend more time at school."

"What about Stevie?"

"He's old enough; he can walk over to the House now. It's only a few blocks."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Milly shook her head. "I can handle it. I'll be fine."


	20. Part 3: Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**Kerchoff Laboratory Building  
California Institute of Technology  
Pasadena, CA  
10/26/05**

**Milly**

To top it all off, it was raining.

Milly stepped into her closet sized lab and dropped her bag of books and files on the shelf set right there for just that purpose. Organization and fine attention to detail was one of her gifts. A gift that helped her finish early today so she could drive Thom where he needed to go.

The reason, though, was unpleasant. And the look on Thom's face said it had somehow grown worse since lunchtime. "What's wrong?" She asked.

He was sitting at her desk, staring morosely at her blotter. "I hate new social workers." He said. "I just checked my voicemail."

"Again?" Milly groaned. "You would think they would read the notes in their own files."

Thom gave her a smile with no humor in it. "You would think. Every October when they get new a new crop they know to call. They even had Bartholomew on there. He was, what, three when I left?" He couldn't look up at her, but he pointed his face in her direction, revealing his eyes to be full of unshed tears. "I suppose even he has good reason to hate me."

"None of them have good reason to hate you." She crouched down and put her hands on his knee, where he had to look at her. "Your father is the one they should hate. What he did was cruel and stupid and he ought to be punished by losing his entire family."

"Instead I'm the one who gets all the fun." Thom was still trying to be light about the whole mess, but it wasn't going well at all.

Milly sighed. "I'm going to call and cancel." She said, reaching for the phone. "You've had enough for today."

"No, peaches. Stop." He reached over and stilled your hand. "If we cancel then Dr. King will have to go with me next time. I'd rather just get it over with." He finally managed a smile. "It's the last time anyway."

* * *

**Children's Hospital of Los Angeles  
4650 Sunset Blvd.  
Los Angeles, CA**

**Thom**

He'd done this five times now. It never ended well.

"Breathe in. Breathe out. Very good. So, Thom, how's life at home?"

Thom groaned. Another year, another social worker, another god dammed intern. Given his less than usual living arrangement every social worker insisted on a full physical to make certain he was eating and not on drugs and not out banging every hole he could without any kind of supervision and ending up with every STD known to man. And that meant that every year he had to explain to a brand-new, highly privileged idiot…. "I don't live at home. I'm a ward of the court; I live in a dorm at CalTech."

"Oh yeah? And you're what, seventeen?" The intern checked the chart. "So, you're a freshman?"

"Nope, postgrad. Got my PhD last year."

"Really?" He had to double check that. "Whoa. So it's…"

"Dr. Hartmann, yes it is."

"Oh. Um, okay. Wow. Lay back." Time to get his stomach poked at. "So, um, how's dorm life treating you?"

"Quietly, and before you go into the rest of your questions I do not drink, I do not smoke, I do not use any kind of drugs, I am on the soccer team so I get ample exercise, I eat a healthy diet with the required number of fruits and vegetables every day and I am not sexually active."

"Ah. Good to know. So, um, how did you end up in foster care?"

"My family abandoned me when they found out I was gay. The University took over guardianship; the head of the house is acting as my foster parent. That's why I'm here; it's the annual rolling of the social workers. They take one look at the file and are concerned that I'm not supervised well enough and want me thoroughly checked over to be sure I'm not falling apart on them."

"Well so far they have nothing to worry about." The intern went and pulled on a set of gloves. "Sorry, I have to check for cancer, STD's…"

"I know." Thom stood up, lowered his boxers and watched the blood drain from the doctor's face. "Courtesy of my father; before you ask I don't have any problem voiding, it does not function for the purposes of reproduction and you cannot refer me to urology to get it fixed, I won't have everyone in DCFS knowing about it in order to get the paper work through. Now, do you really want the details?" The intern had turned a distinct shade of yellow-green and his shoulders and chest were starting to hitch. Thom had just enough time to pull up his shorts before the doctor's lunch threatened to reappear. "I assume this check-up is over. Have a good career."

* * *

**Los Angeles County Offices  
Department of Children and Family Services  
532 E. Colorado Blvd.  
Pasadena, CA**

"Mr. Sosa, please. His four o'clock."

Thom waited patiently until the head of the department came out to greet him. "Dr. Hartmann." Mr. Sosa sighed. "Happened again, huh?"

"Every year."

"I am so sorry. Let me go get her."

'Her' was the new social worker assigned to his case. She couldn't have been more than a few years older, and was clearly here to Do Good for the Children. "Hi! I'm Kelly! I'm afraid I didn't catch your name…"

"Dr. Hartmann."

"Nice to meet you," she was just that chipper.

"This way," Mr. Sosa led them to a familiar conference room where they would not be overheard. "Did you give out the contact information from the Hartmann file to any of the family?" He asked Kelly.

"Family," Kelly was looking in the file. "Oh yes, here it is. It looks like your brother is at CalTech and one of your other brothers from Mississippi wanted his contact infor…." She found his ID picture and looked up in confusion.

"Kelly." Mr. Sosa said. "I know this is an unusual case. It's actually one of the easier ones to handle which is why I put it on your desk. Dr. Hartmann here isn't a family member, he's your client."

"But he's…"

"Seventeen, yes, and a PhD; CalTech has a program for that."

While they talked Thom went to work on the phone. "Now Kelly, I understand that you're new here and that I don't fit the pattern of the usual client, so why don't we set some ground rules from the get go. I don't need your help. I don't need your interference. I don't need an IEP or counseling or regular visitation or anything of that nature. What I need is for you to leave me alone and follow the directions in that file; don't give my family any of my contact information and if you have any questions call Dr. John King directly."

She smiled patiently. "You know, our goal is to keep families together…."

"…especially siblings if at all possible. Well in order for that to work all siblings have to be willing to play nice."

"Your brother called looking for your phone number. He wants to contact you." She made that sound so encouraging and so sweet.

"Yes, I know. He wants to contact me all the time. They all want to contact me all the time." He finally accessed his voicemail. "And this is why."

_There you are you cocksucking little faggot! Guess you're not dead yet, I was hoping you'd get AIDS and have your cock rot off by now, you fucking little…._

He turned down the volume and turned back to the now pale social worker. "There's ten hours of that on there. They only stopped because they filled up the box. Now I get to go order new business cards and make sure everyone has my new number before that one is shut down, which amounts to several days of annoyance. "

Mr. Sosa shook his head. "They just aren't letting go, are they?"

Thom sighed. "Nor will they, it's part of the whole belief structure of the cult. Rebellious, homosexual children get death by stoning if it can be managed, or harassment until they commit suicide if not."

Kelly was still pale. "You don't mean…"

"They want me dead? Yes, yes they do."

"They've sent death threats. They've sent poisonous insects. They've sent dead animals. They've sent things that cause the CalTech Mail Department to call in the hazmat team. They even sent an honest-to-god pipe bomb." Mr. Sosa looked over at her. "This family is as crazy and dangerous as it gets."

"Oh my god," Kelly breathed.

"The only thing that keeps them from actually coming out here to kill me the fact that I live and work in a secure environment so they won't have access." Thom informed her. "And not just my father, everyone in my family. All my brothers and sisters, all my in-laws, all my aunts and uncles and cousins. All of them. Not a one can be trusted. So, do not give out my contact information, to anyone, please. If you have any questions or want to set up a meeting call Dr. King and I'll come by here. All right?"

Kelly nodded. "I am so sorry about all this."

"Apology accepted."

Mr. Sosa walked him out, "So, how many days?"

"One hundred and eighty-three." Until Thom turned eighteen. "Yes, I am counting them. No offence."

"None taken. Have any plans firmed up?"

"I've accepted a position out at George Washington for the '06-'07 year, the Mechatronics lab."

"Nice. Following Dr. Reid, huh?"

"Is that a surprise?"

"Not at all; you gonna be able to handle being stuck as a ward of the court between now and then?"

"Yeah, I can handle it. I'll be fine."

* * *

.

* * *

_**Note**: Gentle reminder, more reviews get faster updates._


	21. Part 3: Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**Indoor shooting range  
FBI building  
Quantico, VA  
11/01/05**

**Spencer**

"On SWAT we broke shots down into three steps." Hotch said. "One: front sight. Focus on the front sight not on the target. Two: controlled trigger press. Three: follow through. After the shot you come right back to the target." His voice gentled slightly. "Now what did you do wrong?"

"I didn't follow through." Spencer admitted. I have to get this. Why can't I get this, it's so simple.

"Right, you came off the target to see where you hit."

"Hotch, my…my firearms qualification is tomorrow morning. I barely passed my last one." And if I don't…okay, I can't think about that right now.

Hotch put a hand on his shoulder and moved him out of the way. "Front sight." He said, drawing his weapon. "Trigger press." He fired and nailed a head shot. "Follow through. You do those three things you'll hit your target every time."

Spencer tried again. He raised the weapon, tried not to wince, and…nailed the silhouette right in the crotch.

"Did Elle teach you that?" Hotch teased.

"They're going to take away my gun." Spencer groaned. I don't think I can do this without my gun.

"Profilers aren't required to carry." Hotch reminded him

"And yet you carry two of them."

Hotch reached down, pulled his backup, and nailed three shots perfect center mass. "When I joined the BAU Gideon said to me, 'you don't have to carry a gun to kill someone'."

That…was distracting, at least. "I don't get it." Spencer admitted.

"You will. Good luck tomorrow." Hotch patted him on the back and left. Spencer went back to practicing. I have to get this, he thought. I have to get this because no matter how tall the stack on the nightstand a profile will not make me feel safe.

* * *

**11/02/05**

"Sorry, Agent Reid, you did not pass. Turn your weapon in at the counter; you can try again in two weeks."

They made it sound so simple, like it wasn't anything worrisome at all. But Spencer was very much worried; he was very much worried about the lack of weight on his hip. In fact it concerned him very much.

He went to the restroom, there at the end of the hall, the one that only took one person at a time. He went inside, locked the door, and backed himself into the corner and slid down, letting the shaking he had been holding in take over. This is ridiculous, he thought, it's not like I was ever going to be able to shoot anyone anyway. I just need to get a grip here. I need to just get it together. I just need to focus and not think about tonight and that I've gone longer than two weeks and I'll be fine. I can handle this. I'll be fine.

* * *

**1425 Hillcrest Ave  
Pasadena, CA  
11/03/05**

**Milly**

"The mail's here!" Sharon sang out as she strode into the kitchen, waving a large, manila envelope.

"At this hour?" Stevie asked. Milly just shrugged casually and went back to her scrambled eggs. The causal part was deliberately deceptive; Sharon was far too happy for comfort; best not to give her any more energy. Stevie, unfortunately, looked over at his mother. "What is it?"

"Your packet from St. Alban's. Ohhh, congratulations! I am so proud of you!" She beamed and came over and gave Stevie the biggest hug she'd probably ever given anyone.

While Sharon hugged and Stevie all but begged his sister to Make It Stop Milly took the envelope from Sharon and had a look. Sure enough it was a boarding enrollment packet for St. Alban's school in the heart of Washington DC. "I didn't know you enrolled at St. Alban's."

"I didn't." Stevie told her.

"An oversight on your part, it's perfect for you!" Sharon purred. "I'm going to go brag to everyone." She grinned as she headed back to her so-called office down the hall.

Stevie turned back to her, anger and fear in his eyes. "Milly, I didn't, I swear."

"I know…." It was a complete packet, very official. It had to be real.

"No, Milly, you don't understand. I applied to Southwestern, Webb, Thatcher and Besant Hill, I even applied to Cate up in Carpinteria. I didn't apply to _any_ schools back east, Dad specifically asked me to stay out here."

"Have you heard back from any of them?"

"No."

"Well, it may be too early in the process…"

"Milly!" His face crumpled in a way too old for him, the way her boyos did when they were just that angry and frustrated and… "Stop trying to make it better! She's a bitch, all right. She's a cold, calculating bitch that just did this to get me away from Dad! She hates me and she doesn't want me in her family and I don't even know why! What did I do anyway?"

Milly took a deep, calming breath as once again she was reminded of how much she hated her step-mother. "You didn't do anything Stevie. You never did anything that wrong. Look." She made the long arm behind her and found the phone. "You're staying home from school today. You're coming with me instead."

"Where are we going?"

"Galois House, if you're asking these questions you're old enough for your first lecture on Narcissistic Personality Disorder."

"On what?"

Milly sighed, "On why you're better off in DC."

* * *

**Galois House  
California Institute of Technology**

Milly sighed and rubbed her eyes. Stevie was in talking with a counselor; Dr. King had agreed to help after hearing what had happened and sat him down with one of the interns from USC who staffed the House. While Stevie was doing that she had taken up residence in a corner of one of the work rooms and had been steady calling one school after another, and in every case getting the same answer, Stephen Bennett's mother had formally written and pulled the application and it was too late to reapply. In the end she'd left two messages and now she needed some coffee, very badly.

And just at that moment her hero arrived with two mugs full. "What did I miss?" Thom asked, passing her one.

"Sharon pulled Stevie's applications to every boarding school in California. The only place he's been accepted for next year is St. Alban's in DC."

"Not that she's trying to get rid of him or anything." Thom sipped and leaned back. "Does your Dad know?"

"He's in with a client, I left him a message. Stevie is in with a counselor, once he's done learning about his Mom's mental illness I'll take him down there and we can tell Dad. He's going to be so pissed."

"Not your fault; or Stevie's."

"I know, but still." She sighed. "I left a message on Spencer's line, warning him that his brother-in-law is going to be moving out with us."

"Hardly a problem, peaches. He loves Stevie. I love Stevie. He'll be fine."

"You two are my heroes, you know that." She frowned. "What are you doing here anyway? Didn't you have a meeting at JPL?"

"Bomb threat." Thom smiled over his coffee mug. "They'll let up for Thanksgiving, they always do."

"Great." Milly groaned. "Hopefully Spencer is having a better day.

* * *

**Grandview Memorial Hospital  
Emergency Department  
Des Planes, IL**

**Spencer**

"Look, I've got patients who need me." The nurse said

"He's in his thirties." Hotch said, gently stopping her. "He's vain, rude, arrogant, works out. He shows up to work late. He blames others for his mistakes, doesn't take responsibility for his behavior and all of his co-workers detest him."

"Oh my god," she breathed. "It's Phillip Dowd. He's…he picks up shifts at Arlington."

"Is he here today?" She immediately started panicking. Hotch quickly moved to calm her. "Okay. It's okay. Your patients need you calm." He got her focus back. "Tell me, is Dowd working today?" She nodded. "Do you see him?" She looked around and shook her head. Hotch looked over at Spencer. "Go tell Gideon." Spencer headed off quick as he could. "Reid." He turned back. "Easy."

Right. Easy for Hotch to say, he had two guns to defend himself with.

Spencer took a few deep breaths, swallowed hard to calm down as he headed down the corridor. He had just managed to get his heart rate under control when an orderly came around the corner, pulled an assault rifle out from under his coat, and butt stroked him in the face.

This was not turning out to be a good day.

* * *

.

* * *

Some dialog taken from _Criminal Minds,_ episode 01x06 "LDSK". No copyright infringement intended.


	22. Part 3: Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**Grandview Memorial Hospital  
Emergency Department  
Des Planes, IL  
11/03/05**

**Spencer**

I hate narcissists, Spencer thought.

In the lucid back of his brain he had been making a list of all the narcissists he knew, in order to distract from the energy coming off Hotch right now because it had to be fake and he really couldn't handle to that right now, not here, not like this. The list started with Alexia Lisbon and ended with Phillip Dowd, the Unsub in front of him and took in Sharon Bennett along the way and every last one of them had been a bully and a sadist and liked to make him and people like him, people he loved, a target. Yep, he thought, Morgan hates people who go after kids, Elle hates rapists, and I hate narcissists. I have found my pet Worst Unsub.

"You want to barricade the door." Hotch was saying.

"What?"

"Let me and the kid do it. Let them see that you've got two FBI agents in here doing your bidding."

"Right." Dowd said. "Let you give them a signal."

"What signal? They knew you were in here, they knew you were armed, what can I tell them?" No they didn't, Reid thought. I was on my way to tell Gideon. They didn't know.

Dowd considered a moment, and then lifted his rifle again. "What is this? Some kind of Profiler trick? New negotiation tactic?" He smiled, like he'd caught Hotch in something. "Yeah, the barricade's a good idea though. Now why would you want to help me?"

"I don't."

The light of understanding went on in Dowd's eyes. "You said they knew I was in here."

Spencer could feel Hotch projecting a mental stutter. "I s...said they know you're in here."

"No, that's not what you said."

Hotch never mentally stutters. He's trying to get Dowd to trust him. "Why does it matter?" He asked Dowd, trying to lead him in whatever way Hotch had him going.

"It _matters_ because your partner wants to help me even though he doesn't know it." Dowd smiled. "Go ahead boss man, tell him why. If you lie, or leave anything out…" Dowd pointed with his weapon and made a pop sound.

"They knew he was in here. They knew he was armed and dangerous. They knew he was going to fight to the last round. And they sent me in here with an unarmed kid who can't shoot his way out of a wet paper bag."

Spencer groaned deep inside. Is _that_ what Hotch had been thinking all this time? He should have known. Somehow he should have _known_.

"They set you up." Dowd agreed.

"Exactly, and they're probably laughing about it right now."

I should have stayed in LA, Spencer thought. Maybe this whole thing was stupid. Who am I to be a hero? I should have stayed at CalTech and moved to Dabney or Page and gone to work at the JPL and led an amazing life. What the hell was I thinking; outside of Gideon these people aren't freaks like we are. They'll never understand us or trust us or like us.

"And that's why you want to help me." Dowd agreed.

"I wouldn't say I want to help you." Hotch argued. "But when they come in here to get revenge for the cop you killed you're going to go down fighting and in the cross-fire a lot of us are going to die." The hostages whimpered behind them. Well, Spencer thought, there's their warning. "They sent me in here, I figure why make it easy for them. You know why they took away Boy Genius's gun?"

"Why?"

"He failed his qualification. Twice a year I gotta listen to him whine about requalifying so I tutor him and he fails _again_." Barely, Spencer thought. It goes along with the High Functioning Autism that makes me your walking computer. I can't help it, when I'm tested on something physical my brain goes into overdrive and I can't function. And if you cared at all you'd understand that!

"You think you've got it rough?" Dowd looked around the room. "These people have done nothing but undermine me since I got here."

"Put them next to the barricade." Hotch replied. "That way when they blast their way in here both of our problems are solved. That sort of thing could ruin a cop's career."

What? Spencer thought. You don't put them in front of the barricade; the cops coming in will hit them first. Since when does Hotch make mistakes like that? Unless….

Unless….

Dowd grinned at Hotch in respect. "You are one sick dude."

"How do you think I found you?"

Once the hostages were out of the way Hotch spoke up again. "Can I ask you a favor?"

Dowd chuckled. "You can ask."

"I figure the chances of my getting out of here alive are pretty slim."

"So?"

"I want to kick the snot out of this kid. He's made my life miserable for one long, lousy year"

Kick. Okay, he could do this. He didn't know if he could…Spencer looked from Hotch to Dowd and back in very nearly unfeigned fear. This was going to be tricky, but he thought he could…

Dowd chuckled. "Knock yourself out."

Hotch turned on him, pushing him to the floor. Spencer deliberately rolled over to face him, into the kicks, not away like Thom and Milly tried to teach him. Hotch planted the foot with his ankle holster and began kicking him in the stomach. "What do you think now smart guy?" I think this would be a lot easier if you weren't getting so close to my groin, Spencer thought as he quickly worked his fingers under Hotch's pant leg and tried to pull his backup weapon free. "Front sight! Trigger press! Follow through!" Yes, Spencer thought, I know, now aim higher, please! Then one kick hit lower and for a moment he saw stars. "It's not that hard! A Dalmatian could do it!" Damn it, he didn't have it. He curled around like he was begging Hotch for mercy. Granted the whimpers weren't entirely faked, his abdomen was blooming in an old, familiar agony. "Let go! Let go!" Spencer rolled to conceal the gun and for a moment to cradle the essentials. Oh this was going to suck come morning.

"Feel better?" Dowd asked.

"I think he got the message." Hotch replied.

There was a moment's pause and then, "What's that?" Dowd asked as he spotted the empty ankle holster.

Spencer remembered. He remembered Alexa Lisbon and the football team. He remembered when Trey Harper and the team beat him so bad he thought he might never father children. He remembered the first time Thom showed him his body and how he shook when he explained what his father had done. He remembered when Milly sat on the floor of their bathroom and sobbed into his shoulder because of the dream Sharon had so nearly destroyed. And he remembered how, for just a few minutes, Dowd made him think that Hotch hated him.

And he rolled over and put a round between Phillip Dowd's eyes.

* * *

"You all right?" Hotch asked.

Spencer had the EMT's give him a once over, all he had were bumps and bruises; a lot of bumps and bruises. He'd had worse before, and probably would again, which meant that the bumps and the bruises were not the cause of his shaking. But he nodded anyway.

"Nice shot."

"I…I was aiming for his leg." Yeah, no, the humor did not help.

The smile he shared with Hotch did.

"Well, I wouldn't have kept kicking you but I was afraid you didn't get my plans." Hotch admitted.

"I got your plan the minute you moved the hostages out of my line of fire." Spencer replied.

"Well, I hope I didn't hurt you too badly."

Hurt me? No, Spencer thought, just the opposite. What you've given me is huge. "Hotch, I was a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kick like a nine year old girl."

And that shared smile made everything just fine.

Spencer offered Hotch his weapon back. "No, keep it." Hotch said, with a pat on the back. "As far as I'm concerned you passed your qualification." He went off to see to the scene again.

Hotch trusts me, Spencer thought. He trusted me to do what needed to be done, and to handle all that responsibility. Despite my age, despite being a freak, he trusts me. Thom trusted me when he showed me his notebook. Milly trusted me that day she cried on my shoulder on the bathroom floor. Gideon trusted me the day he got me the waver to join the FBI three years too young. Hotch is not a Galois House freak and yet he trusted me today.

"Reid, you all right?" Morgan asked.

Spencer tossed back the whistle Morgan had given him as he walked off. Maybe I am trustworthy, he thought, and not just around other freaks. Maybe I can trust myself to handle anything.

* * *

**BAU headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico, VA  
11/06/05**

**Morgan**

"Morgan." Hotch called to him from the catwalk.

Something was up. He and Reid had come in together just a few minutes ago, only to have Gideon call Reid into his office as soon as they hit the door. And he had just got to his desk; he hadn't even had time to stash his go-bag. "Yeah Hotch?" He asked when he was close enough.

"I need a favor. It's…it's personal." Hotch looked uncomfortable and almost…upset. Well, for Hotch. "I can't send Gideon, he's not the right person and with Haley and the baby…"

Haley and a newborn at home, yeah, anything not life or death was on hold for a few. Morgan could get with that. "Sure, what do you need?'

"I need you to fly out to LA for a few days, commercial, I'll cover it." Hotch sighed and let the concern finally show. "Mark Bennett died early this morning."

* * *

.

* * *

Some...okay, a lot of dialog taken from _Criminal Minds_ 01x06 "LDSK". No copyright infringement intended.


	23. Part 3: Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**BAU headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico, VA  
11/07/05**

**Morgan**

Oh hell. "What happened?" Morgan asked.

"We don't know yet." Hotch replied. "I came in to a call from Dr. King, the headmaster at Galois House. He didn't have the full report. I've got Garcia getting tickets on the next commercial flight and Dr. King is arranging rooms, but…he's going to need help getting through the funeral."

"Yeah. Yeah, I get it. I got it covered. Don't worry; just look after Haley and Jack, all right."

"Thank you."

Morgan headed downstairs to their desks where Elle and JJ were waiting and started packing up. "What happened?"

"Reid and I are going to LA. Mark Bennett died this morning."

"You mean 'Dad'?" Elle asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh god," JJ groaned. Just then Reid came down to the desks, looking very much in shock and very confused. He absently accepted hugs from both women, but he was really looking at his desk. "I don't know what…what files I should take." He said, pushing past them to shuffle the stacks, "Something to do on the plane."

"Don't worry about it." Reid kept sorting, his eyes not seeing anything. "Reid. Don't worry about work. Here, sit." Morgan gently pushed Reid's shoulder until his butt hit the chair. "I got it covered, all right. Is your go-bag ready?" JJ and Elle started to help.

"Yeah. I re-packed it last night." Reid was staring absently at the pictures on his desk. "I've got to get to Thom and Milly."

"That's where we're going. Come on."

* * *

**Galois House  
California Institute of Technology  
Pasadena, CA**

This was not how Morgan wanted to see the inside of the House.

There was a padded bench on one side of the meeting room. That's where they found Milly, Stevie and Thom. She must have run out the door in her pajamas, stopping only for jeans and shoes, and he wasn't much better. She'd also been crying, was crying, and Stevie looked like he wanted to but was trying to be strong. As soon as they got in the room Reid was at her side. "What happened?' He asked, gently.

"Dad and Sharon were at some party last night." She said, sniffling. "They must have had a fight. He left on his own, was on his way home. They said the other driver fell asleep at the wheel." She nearly broke down again but held on. "When the police came I…I didn't know what to do. I had Stevie pack a bag and I drove to the House and told the night supervisor to call Dr. King. I didn't know what else to do." She started losing it again. "They went to a wedding on Saturday, and when he came home he told me how much he was looking forward to walking me down the aisle…." She broke down in tears, and buried her head in Reid's shoulder.

He held her there a moment, then pulled Steve over his lap and in to his other side. Then he reached over and put his hand on Thom's shoulder. "How are you holding up?"

"Thinly," Thom replied. He looked devastated, and clearly was only being strong for the other two.

In the meantime Morgan approached the knot of people at the other end of the table. "Um, I don't know who I'm supposed to talk to; a Dr. King called Aaron Hotchner this morning…"

"That would be me." The man who offered his hand was portly, bald but bearded, with the glasses and tweed coat of the diehard academic. "Dr. John King, I'm the administrator of the Galois House program. I assume you're from the FBI?"

"Yeah, Derek Morgan; I'm Dr. Reid's partner. I'm…" Okay, what was his role in all of this?" "I guess I'm a friend of the family." He looked over at the older, Hispanic man.

"Carlos Sosa, Department of Children and Family Services," they shook hands. "I've been handling Dr, Hartmann's case."

"CPS?"

"Dr. King called me in. He suspects custody is going to be an issue."

"How so?"

Just then another man entered this one rather more expensively if casually dressed, and carrying a briefcase. "Sorry it took me so long to get here." He said. "We were up at Pebble." He looked over at Milly and her brother. "Kids, I am so sorry." She managed to nod and smile a little and murmur her thanks. Only then did he turn to the others. "Gary Douran, I was Mark Bennett's attorney, now I'm the executor of his estate. Anyone hear from Sharon?"

"Not a word." Dr. King replied.

"Has probate been filed?" Mr. Sosa asked.

"I just left there." Mr. Douran handed him the appropriate paperwork. "The will stipulates my office administer the family trust and I am licensed to act as Guardian of the Estate."

"Excellent."

Morgan was already confused. "I'm sorry; you're going to have to walk me through this."

Mr. Sosa nodded. "In California if a minor is left with a considerable financial estate guardianship is split between two parties, the Guardian of the Person, who is responsible for the day-to-day care of the minor, and a specially licensed Guardian of the Estate who manages the funds. The system is designed to prevent fraud or outright theft. Now the court does have the final say over who will be assigned both roles, but the wishes of the decedent are usually respected whenever possible. In this case if Mr. Douran's office is already handling the trust and acting as executor the court will most likely assign them the detail. Right now we're more concerned with the Guardian of the Person."

Morgan nodded. "Okay, how does that work?"

"In the case of the death of a parent guardianship is broken down into three distinct time frames. The first one we worry about is Emergency Guardianship. This usually lasts three to five days. Our goal is to ensure the minor's safety and care while the initial paperwork is being filed." Mr. Sosa turned to some of the paperwork before him. "Now as I understand it Mr. Bennett was married? There is another adult living in the home?"

"Yes." Dr. King, said, carefully. "But…based upon our observations Sharon Bennett would not be considered a safe guardian for the children."

"I'll second that." Mr. Douran said. "And I know her."

Mr. Sosa sighed. "Are we looking at emergency foster care?"

"No." Dr. King replied. "I spoke to the Regents this morning. The University is willing to assume guardianship of Dr. Bennett, just as we have of Dr. Hartmann. And given that Stephen is a family member we're willing to offer the same for him as long as Dr. Bennett is in residence."

Just in case Morgan decided he wanted a translation to take back to Hotch, "Meaning?"

"Milly and Stevie can move into the dorm here." Dr. King explained. "The University will stand as Guardian of the Person and I'll act as foster parent, at least until June of next year when she'll age out of the program."

"At which time I'm under instructions to help her fight for custody of her brother." Mr. Douran told them.

"One step at a time, gentlemen," Mr. Sosa said. "I can approve this plan for emergency care. If…"

"WHERE THE HELL ARE MY CHILDREN!" Someone screamed from the lobby.

Everyone turned to the door except Morgan. He turned to look at the four over on the couch. Stevie looked scared, Milly looked disgusted and angry, Thom looked flat out pissed, and Reid….he might need to take Reid's gun away. Right. Morgan got up and took a spot beside the door, whoever this was he wanted to get in behind them, not the other way around.

A tall, skinny blond in a skin tight red dress that barely covered the essentials stormed into the room. She was wearing too much jewelry and too much makeup, which had started coming off in unflattering ways, and her hair had that distinctive, rumpled look of just coming off a very busy bed. "Where the hell are my kids?" She shrieked out again. "What the hell is going on Gary?"

"Sharon." Douran held up a hand to try to pacify her. "Did you hear about Mark?"

"Yes, I did." She beamed with pleasure before turning back to the kids. "Go get your asses in the car!"

As she turned Morgan caught something. "Have you been drinking?" He asked.

She turned and glared at him. "Yeah," she replied, "And fucking around on my husband too. What's it to you?"

Before Morgan could answer that Milly spoke up, "You're not my mother." She said in a voice far too calm. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Fantastic." Sharon spat back. She turned to her son, "Stevie, go get in the car."

"I'm not going anywhere either!" Stevie yelled at her. "You killed Dad!"

"Stevie…" Sharon grabbed his arm.

"NO!" He pulled back, only to have his head whipped around as his Mother slapped him across the face.

"Hey now! None of that! None of that!" Morgan pulled her off, none too gently, as Reid and Thom stepped between Sharon and her children. Morgan did not like the look on Reid's face. Right after Dowd, he thought, that's real bad timing. Thankfully just then campus security showed up. He passed the struggling, cursing widow off and turned to Reid, pointedly looking at his hidden holster, "You good?"

"Yeah," Reid replied, but his eyes never stopped tracking Sharon Bennett. "I'm fine."

"Escort Mrs. Bennett off-campus, please," Dr. King was saying. "We'll be getting a restraining order." The two guards nodded and hustled the drunken profane woman away.

Morgan turned back to Reid, "You good?" He asked again.

Thankfully this time Reid relaxed. "Yeah," he replied. "Pet Unsubs."

Narcissists. "No kidding." Morgan could get with that.

Through all of this Mr. Sosa remained entirely unruffled. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out another file. "So, DCFS will be removing one Stephen Bennett from the home. I believe that performance counts as probable cause for it." He informed them. "Since Galois House currently stands as a foster home I'm going to, ahhh, 'dump' him here for now. There will be a detention hearing in 48 hours where we'll petition the court to have Stephen kept in foster care. Any chance of a couple of FBI agents testifying?"

"Yes." Reid told him.

"Absolutely," Morgan agreed. "And you know he's got that court-certified eidetic memory thing going."

"I always did like you Dr. Reid." Mr. Sosa murmured. "After that there will be a Jurisdictional Hearing in, oh, about sixty days, the docket is backed up."

"We'll come back out for it." Morgan told him.

"Good." He quickly finished the form. "Now, as for Dr. Bennett, you said she was not your mother, I'm assuming step-mom?"

"Yes, that's right." Milly said. If nothing else the confrontation had at least dried up her tears for now.

"Where's your biological mom?"

"I don't know."

"I have an address for Priscilla Gault's attorney." Mr. Douran spoke up. "Somewhere in Montana I believe. She was supposed to have visitation rights but she hasn't had contact since the divorce."

"I didn't even know her name was Priscilla." Milly admitted.

"That's a clear case of abandonment." Mr. Sosa told them. "But we have a Constitutional requirement to inform her anyway. So here's how it's going to go, Stephen's hearing is in 48 hours, Milly's is in 72, in both cases we'll petition the court to let them stay here. Then Stephen will stay until the next hearing at least, when we'll try to get Mrs. Bennett to agree to a reunification plan."

"You won't." Reid told him. "Sharon Bennett has a classic case of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. She won't agree to any kind of counseling."

"Can you testify to that?"

"As a Profiler."

"Good. Be sure to explain that to the judge. In the meantime Milly will stay until her Permanent Guardianship hearing, thirty days after the Temporary Guardianship hearing. During that time we'll send Priscilla Gault the notifications and give her a chance to respond. I assume that if she doesn't respond or refuses to accept the University will petition to take on Permanent Guardianship?"

"We will." Dr. King replied. "And we'll fight her if she tries."

Mr. Sosa looked over at Milly. "Given your age you have the right to tell the court who you'd prefer as a Guardian. The court has the final say but will respect your wishes within reason. Although I would advise you, ahem, not put Dr. Reid on the list."

Milly smiled at him. "Thank you. I'll stay here."

"Good. Concurrent to attempting Family Reunification with his mother we'll be planning to transfer custody of Stephen when you reach your majority. Would you be willing to attend counseling and take some parenting and independent living classes between now and then?"

"Whatever it takes."

"Good. What about school?"

"Stevie's enrolled at the Polytechnic School next door to campus." She told him. "I can walk him there and back, assuming his tuition…"

"Don't worry about the bills, sweetheart." Mr. Douran reassured her. "It will all be covered."

Milly nodded. "Next year I was planning on moving to DC. He's been accepted to St. Alban's in the District as a boarding student. For now I guess he'll just finish the year and then we can settle in over the summer."

"Sounds like an excellent plan." Mr. Sosa beamed his approval.

Reid blinked as a thought struck him. "I'm going to need a bigger apartment." He said.

Morgan chuckled, "Now that I can help you with." Finally something he could do.

"As for me I'm…teaching. Working for the JPL." Milly stumbled a bit. "I'm...I'm supposed to be in class in an hour…"

"Not to worry." Dr. King told her. "I'll have your classes covered for the week. If nothing else Astrid and Berkowitz owe you several times over. And I'm sure we can find someone to look after your lab for the next few days."

"Thank you." Milly blinked again. She was clearly used to being organized, and right now she was utterly at sea. "What about the funeral? Our stuff at the house? I have to tell Stevie's school…"

"No you don't." Douran told her. "I'll take care of all of it. You just worry about saying good-bye."

"I…I…" She started crying again, and Reid reeled her in.

"Right," Mr. Sosa started putting away his papers. "I do like it when everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be."


	24. Part 3: Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

**1425 Hillcrest Ave  
Pasadena, CA  
11/11/05**

**Morgan**

They'd been in LA longer than he'd expected, but when Hotch heard the details he authorized everything.

Sharon Bennett had shown up for Stevie's hearing, of course, with a very expensive lawyer in tow. But the testimony of Dr. King and the two agents were really all it took to show the court that leaving a minor with her would be unsafe in the short term and so her lawyer didn't object. Everything got passed down to the next hearing. She didn't even show up for Milly's. It turned out to be more a formality than anything.

The two hearings had bumped the funeral down to Friday. The service had been moving and well attended, but even with the strict formality of the Episcopal mass Morgan had noticed a pattern starting to develop. It strengthened at the graveside, and now at the wake it was clear. There was one contingent of 'mourners' who was here to 'support' Sharon. They were clustered in the formal living and dining rooms, dressed a little too well, gossiping a little too loudly, drinking a little too much, like all this was a party and not a funeral. The second group was quieter, more somber, drinking coffee if anything, and usually found their way to the family room where a young woman sat, pale and wan, being carefully protected and looked after by an off-duty cop hired for the occasion, a couple of social workers and two young men who shared her pain. A few quiet condolences and that group tended to move on.

But one person was missing.

Morgan found Stevie exactly where he expected, sitting on the stairs, watching the goings on. "Hey." He said quietly, "This seat taken?" Stevie shrugged so Morgan sat. "I remember how this works."

"Do you?"

"Yeah," Morgan nodded. "See, my Dad was a cop. He was killed in the line of duty when I was a little younger than you. He went out to work one day and just never came back." Not exactly the way it happened, but Dad would understand, Morgan thought.

Stevie was quiet a moment. "I keep thinking he's going to come back." He admitted, quietly.

"Yeah, I bet you are." Morgan agreed. "I felt the same way."

"When did you stop waiting?"

It was Morgan's turn to be quiet. "I don't think I have yet." He admitted in turn. "I know one thing though."

"What?"

"Something my Auntie Yvonne said after. She said it's the ones who are afraid who keep it all in to look tough. The really tough guys don't give a damn who sees them cry."

A minute later Derek Morgan had a boy sobbing into his shoulder. And that was okay.

* * *

After most of the guests had left, Mr. Douran called the people that remained into the library. "In this country the so-called 'reading of the will' is a convention of fiction. Last Monday I filed the will with the probate court and they are seeing to the processing of whatever part of the estate lies outside of the family trust. People who are to receive any items from the estate will be notified by the court when probate clears. However, Mark left specific instructions that parts of his will be read aloud to his friends and family, in the fine old English tradition, or so he told me. To honor his wishes I will do so now, with the understanding that all of this is tentative pending the court's final word on the subject. Understood?" There were nods and murmurs all around. "Good. In that case…I, Mark Bennett, being of sound mind and body do hereby bequeath the following…."

Morgan was leaning up against the wall kind of toward the back, watching the assembled mourners. Milly, Thom, Reid and Stevie were sitting together on the right just in front of him, along with Dr. King as the foster parent and some other family friends. Sharon Bennett was over on the left, sitting with a small knot of her friends. The divide between the two groups was clear and wide, but so far everyone was behaving.

Mr. Douran rolled on, stipulating that so much was left to this charity, so much to that, mostly stuff that Morgan tuned out in favor of watching the body language in the room. Sharon was impatient; the kids were tired but hanging in there. Then something familiar caught his ear. "To the Galois Program at the California Institute of Technology, a bequeath of one million dollars in gratitude for the assistance provided to my family over the years." That had Morgan cluing in to the amounts being passed around. Milly had called herself a trust fund baby, but he'd had no idea.

Mr. Douran turned the page. "The rest of this is personal." He told them. "To my son Stephen I leave my collection of soccer memorabilia and my library, in the hopes that he will actually read on occasion." That got them starting to smile a little through the tears. "To my daughter Millicent I leave the family chess set, my collection of rugby memorabilia, and the contents of her great-grandmother Millicent's trunk, including her wedding dress and the picture in my library of her and her husbands, both of them, as a reminder that there is nothing new under the sun." Even from where he was standing Morgan could see Milly flush a deep red. He had to stifle a laugh; that was one smart father.

"To the proud and understandably private Dr. Thomas Hartmann Jr., the sum of one million dollars to be held in trust until his majority and to be released first to the medical institution of his choosing, and the remainder to be released pursuant to amendment twelve of this document." Even from there Morgan could see Thom go all over pale, and Reid and Milly grin at him.

"Since her son refuses to accept assistance, to Dr. Diana Reid, the sum of five million dollars, to be held in trust for her care and needs for the duration of her natural life so he can save his hard-earned pennies." Reid's jaw very nearly hit the floor.

"To my wife Sharon Bennett, the sum of one hundred thousand a year for the next five years to be held trust and released to cover her personal needs; also an additional one hundred thousand to cover the costs of a degree from the accredited university of her choice."

"WHAT?" Sharon snapped.

"The remainder of the physical assets of my estate, including my home, is currently held within the Bennett family trust. Unless they choose to remain in the home the physical assets are to be sold and the sum of that trust is to be split evenly between my surviving children, used for their care and education, and then released unto them pursuant to amendment thirteen of this document."

Damn, Morgan thought. Just, damn.

"And lastly, to Dr. Spencer Reid, because I know of no better man to trust with the care of my family, and because I would be proud to call him my son, I leave my greatest treasure, my daughter Millicent's hand in marriage." Mr. Douran closed the file. "Thank you all very much."

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** End of Part 3.


	25. Part 4: Chapter 25

_**Part 4**_

_He is strong and pain is worse to the strong. Incapacity is worse.  
- Robinson Jeffers_

* * *

**Chapter 25**

**1425 Hillcrest Ave  
Pasadena, CA  
11/12/05**

**Spencer**

They were taking the red-eye back to DC tonight. It had been a long week, but it had been worth it. With all the hearings and meetings at least he was going back knowing that his family would be safe at Galois House, protected by the University until he could come retrieve them next summer. He could go to work with a clear head knowing that they were safe.

Right now Morgan was downstairs with Stevie and the social worker, cleaning out Stevie's closet under the supervision of the lawyer's representative, and he and Thom and Milly were in one of the attic storage spaces, going through the things Mark had brought from England so long ago with his music collection playing in the background. They'd had precious little private time over the past few visits, and they needed it, badly. "I still can't believe he knew." Spencer said, scooping the hair back from his eyes. "Unless someone from the school told him. Is this Peter Gabriel?"

"Yes, it is." Milly confirmed. "Get used to it, I get his music collection."

"The observations the USC people make are kept strictly confidential." Thom pointed out. He'd brought up a notebook and pen, of course, but he set those aside to help them shift boxes. "Granted he was also a trained observer, a good lawyer would have to be."

"And we thought we could hide things from him." Milly sighed. "We were really that stupid."

"No." Spencer corrected her. "I think we were having a…a moment of being adolescents." They all had a chuckle at that one. "What are we doing up here anyway?"

"I wanted to find great-grandma's trunk before Sharon could get her mitts into it." Milly shoved another stack of boxes. "Most of this is crap left over from the last however many times Sharon hired a decorator. I think that might be it."

"Is Sharon not living here anymore?" Spencer asked as he helped with the box shuffling.

"Nope, apparently after our meeting, Gary took possession of the house and changed the locks. She was only going to be allowed to live here if Stevie was living with her and since he refused she was out on her ass. Now we all get to pack up our things and move out and then the house and the contents will be sold and the money put back in the trust. Ooff!" That box must be heavier than it looked.

"And you're not upset about losing your childhood home?" Spencer asked. "Stevie's not?"

"With all the crap Sharon pulled here? He's looking forward to it. I'll be more upset about leaving the Langham, that's where all the good memories are." Milly gave one more shove. "No, I plan to go buy the oldest house in DC that I can, some place that's quaint and inefficient and has some real history. And a big kitchen."

"So there's no chance of Sharon wandering in here?" Thom wanted to be sure.

"No, I have a restraining order and she's only allowed supervised visits with Stevie. Gary and her lawyer worked out a schedule of when we can be here to pack. I'm taking the week off to get it done, with the company of a social worker just in case. Once our rooms are cleared she can take what she likes, most of it was stuff she picked out anyway. Also…" She looked over at Spencer. "Remind me to take Derek out for a nice dinner or something. I am so glad he and Stevie have hit it off, you have no idea."

Spencer had an idea, Milly had been her brother's support through all of this but even she needed a break and some support of her own, and having Morgan step in was probably a huge help. "I will. What are you going to do with everything that you don't need at the House?"

"I don't know. I need to go through it all but I won't have time to do it before it's boxed."

"Have whatever you won't need before next summer shipped to DC. I'll put it in storage there and you can go through it before the next school year starts."

She sighed. "That would be perfect, thank you. Okay, here we go." They'd reached the trunk at last. She wiped off the name place. "M. Lyden-Bennett. Yep, it's locked."

"Just give me a minute." Spencer had brought his lock pick kit, now he went to work.

"Did he ever tell you about her?" Thom asked. He'd found a spot on the floor to watch, and sketch if the desire arose. They didn't mind, they knew how much of a comfort it was for him.

"No. Dad said his father was raised by relatives after the war, she pined away after losing her husband Peter and…and their friend Henry Lyden in the Blitz." She smiled as she finally realized what it all meant. "He said no one ever talked about that branch of the family, they were terribly bohemian."

"Well if my mental math is correct she would have come of age in the Edwardian era, right before World War I." He smiled up at her. "La Belle Époque, isn't that right around the time the Free Love movement hit its stride?"

"While the phrase free love is often associated with promiscuity in the popular imagination, especially in reference to the counterculture of the 1960s and 1970s, historically the free-love movement has not advocated multiple sexual partners or short-term sexual relationships." Spencer pointed out. "Rather, it has argued that love relations that are freely entered into should not be regulated by law."

"Including the laws against polyfidelity?" Milly asked. She closed her eyes and groaned a little. "I can't imagine her losing both of them."

"Good point. Got it." One twist and the lock popped. He lifted the lid an inch and recoiled. "At least you don't have to worry about moths, or losing us."

"Good thing." Milly stepped over and lifted the lid. All they saw at first was a carefully folded sheet, but when she unfolded it…"Oh!" It was a long, delicate gown trimmed in laces and ribbons, all aged to the color of pale cream. "It's beautiful!" She carefully lifted it out and held it up to her body, and Spencer felt his mouth go very dry. "You know, I think it might fit."

"Want to try it on?" Thom asked.

"Not without a seamstress on hand, just in case." She replied, "And not in front of the groom."

"There are other ways." Thom found his notebook. "Stand there a minute."

Spencer pictured himself slowly peeling her out of it, in front of a mirror in a room with a big, soft bed. "Does this mean we're still going through with it?"

Milly looked over her shoulder at him. "Do you still want to? I mean, it's a formality; I'm keeping both of you. But Dad knew and he still wanted it this way, I'd like to respect that. And..." She blushed, which did not help Spencer's current state. "...okay, I admit, I always wanted to be a bride."

"I still want to." Right at that moment marrying her was the only possible future. That and a wedding night. Okay, this train of thought was starting to ache.

"Leave room at the foot of the bed for me." Thom said abstractly, his nose in his notebook. "Is there a veil in there?"

"We'll need a bed big enough for three." She replied. "I don't know."

"There is." Spencer carefully pulled the delicate lace from the trunk and tucked the comb in behind her ribbon. This just kept getting better. Unfortunately it was also making his pants even tighter.

And Thom, sitting on the floor, noticed. "Problems?" He asked quietly, giving his lover a private smile.

"Shut up." Spencer grinned and went back into the trunk. "It looks like there's only the rest of the stuff from the dress in here, but the main compartment is too shallow."

"Is there anything in the till? Ready?" Milly asked the last of Thom, who nodded. With that she carefully tucked the dress and veil away again. "I always thought…" She stopped, her eyes glistening.

"Shoes." Spencer told her, holding up the delicate ribbon and lace trimmed heels. "You always thought what?"

"That either I'd have to have the most embarrassing wedding ever, so Sharon could shine, or else she'd find a way to ruin it for me." She admitted. "I kept thinking 'we could elope to Vegas, get married before Sharon even knew we were gone, but it would break Dad's heart so I have to go through with it'." She sighed. "I guess I can have what I want now."

"I never knew it was that big a deal for you." Spencer admitted.

"Me neither." Thom replied.

"I didn't want Sharon to know." Milly told them. "She tends to destroy the things she can reach."

"Well we'll have a grand party now, peaches." Thom said. "And Mark will be there, you know that."

"I know."

As she put the dress away Spencer noticed something. "Hold on." Sure enough, there was a hidden latch that lowered the front of the trunk. Beneath the main compartment were three drawers. "I wonder what's here."

Milly closed the top of the trunk, opened a drawer and grinned, "Letters!" The drawer was filled with aged, folded papers, many tucked into envelopes still. And pictures were tucked in as well. The three of them grinned at each other. "Someday someone will find ours like this."

"If they can decode them," Spencer agreed. He opened the drawer on his side, and found three leather bound books. Ever so carefully he picked one out, and cradled the spine as he opened it. "I think these are her journals."

"Now that is a treasure." Thom pointed out. "You can't leave those here."

"I'm not. I keep all my personal papers to the House; these are going back with me." Milly carefully opened the tiny center drawer. Inside were an elegant fountain pen and two holes for ink bottles. One slot held a bottle, but the other held a bit of wrapped up silk. She picked that out, unfolded it and gasped.

Thom had been finishing his sketch, and Spencer had been bringing back a basket he spotted earlier, but at the sound they both stopped and looked. There in the cloth were three rings, three delicately engraved bands, one set with three small diamonds. "These must have been their wedding rings." She realized.

"They're beautiful." Thom agreed. "What are you going to do with them?"

She studied them a moment. "I don't have either of my Dad's wedding rings." She told them. "And given his marriages, the…symbolism there would be very wrong."

"I was going to find an engagement ring when I got back to DC." Spencer admitted.

Milly grinned at him. "Don't you dare." She offered the handful of rings, and he nimbly plucked the one with the diamonds free and slid it over her finger. "As I said, I am keeping the both of you." She said, taking each of their hands in turn and sliding a band over the ring finger. "Done?"

Spencer reached up, cupped her cheek, and leaned in for a long, slow kiss. She smelled of roses and powder and something rich and heady under it all and when she opened she tasted of tea and maple syrup and felt like home and turned his blood molten, "Done."

Thom's cheek was scratchy under his palm, and he smelled of mint soap and spicy aftershave and when he opened he tasted of coffee and caramels and he felt wild and strong and so very safe. "Done." Thom said with a grin.

Spencer watched as Milly turned and accepted a similar kiss from Thom and as always it was the most exquisite thing he had ever seen, "Done." She said.

"Done what?" Morgan asked from the stairs. "I hope you mean done in here because it's time to get going."

Thom looked back at the two of them and held up his notebook in a question. Spencer nodded and saw Milly's nod out of the corner of his eye. "Done with this," he held up the sketch of Milly actually in her grandmother's wedding dress and Spencer felt anything he could say die in his throat. She was everything he had ever dreamed and more.

"God, Thom, that can't be me." Milly marveled.

"Well, I did have to interpret a little to get you into the thing." He admitted.

"Damn," was all Morgan had to say. He looked over at Spencer. "You're in trouble."

Spencer could only nod for a moment. The thought of peeling her out of that dress was going to keep him occupied for… "We just need to clean out these drawers." He told Morgan, as they set to work carefully packing the letters and journals for the trip back to the House.

In the driveway, just after the lawyer's representative had locked the door and driven away Milly groaned. "Oh! I forgot my hair ribbons!"

"You have some." Thom replied. "Sharon isn't likely to make off with those. Get them next week."

"Right."

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** This chapter includes a cut scene, which can be found at the LiveJournal account associated to this story. Just follow the link at the bottom of my profile.


	26. Part 4: Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico, VA  
11/14/05**

**Hotch**

"Oh, he's so gorgeous!" JJ gushed.

"Thank you." Haley replied

Aaron Hotchner felt himself swelling with ridiculous pride. Given the amount of input he'd had in creating his son compared Haley he really shouldn't feel this way. She did all the work, all he did was…well…

"Yeah; if you find baldness and wrinkles attractive," Spencer remarked. Give it time, Hotch thought, when you bring your son or daughter around I'm going to remind you of that.

Garcia whapped Spencer in reply. "Look at his little wittle bitty nose." She cooed. She looked over when Morgan joined them. "Don't you want one of these?"

"Hmmm," Morgan considered. "I'll stick to practicing." He gave her a wicked grin and headed for his desk. They all chuckled over that one.

Elle finally made her way over. "Congratulations." She said.

"Thanks." Hotch replied. "She's amazing." And she was. Haley had done everything, continued to do everything. She was…simply perfection. He could not imagine life without her. Well no. He could. And he never, ever wanted to go through that again. "I'm a little terrified." He admitted, distracting himself from the memory.

Haley took a deep breath. "Well, uh, we should get going."

"A pleasure seeing you Mrs. Hotchner," Spencer responded politely as the others waved their good-byes.

Hotch helped Haley get Jack settled into his pram. "You'll call when you get home, right?" He asked his wife.

"Of course," Haley smiled up at him. "It's been sixteen years Aaron, and you still have to know where I am, don't you?"

"I'm sorry." He sighed. "I can't help it." He pulled her in and kissed her gently. "Drive safe." Then he waited until they were in the elevator before heading back to work. He got about two steps before Elle was handing him a file. "Bad?"

"The worst," she replied.

* * *

**Applewood Counseling Center  
Washington DC  
11/15/05**

They were here. They had to be here. Somewhere in this room were the trophies Karl Arnold took from the families he destroyed and he was going to find them. Hotch had given up going through everything neatly, now he was tossing the contents of the shelves onto the floor, emptying the drawers, anything to find the trophies. They had to have something to pin this guy to the other murders. They _had_ to. Because if they didn't then this monster could go free and then he would have to spend the rest of his life dreaming of being one of those fathers. He'd have to spend the rest of his life dreaming of being trapped in a room and Haley was off with a monster and he didn't know _what_ and he didn't know _where_ and now there was Jack and he just couldn't….

Wait. The back of the bookshelf was hollow.

Behind the panel he found a set of medical restraints, a stack of video recordings and a small tin box.

He opened the box slowly, and felt everything stop when he saw what was inside.

* * *

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico, VA**

They all looked at the box in sorrow as Gideon studied the contents. And then he dumped them out on the table. But it wasn't the two wedding rings they had expected.

It was _eight_.

Eight families torn apart. Thirty-two people.

They had just caught one of the most prolific serial killers of all time. They should be proud, but knowing what Arnold had done to those families made it a very rough day.

And then, as the team was leaving, Hotch's phone rang.

Two sentences and he was telling them not to leave.

* * *

.

* * *

Some dialog taken from _Criminal Minds_ 01x07 "The Fox". No copyright infringement intended.


	27. Part 4: Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

**Gulfstream G-IV  
Tail number N4SP  
Southeastern airspace  
****11/15/05**

**Hotch**

"Okay, start at the beginning." Gideon said.

They had files in front of them, files that had been faxed out from the LA field office. Files of the sort that Hotch never, _ever_ wanted to see connected to anyone he ever cared about. And he cared about his team very much.

"Millicent Bennett was supposed to pick up her little brother Stephen after school today." Elle began. "When she didn't he walked the three blocks to Galois House to find her."

"She wouldn't have done that." Spencer was way too pale and was staring off into nothing, as if he was completely absorbed by the patterns in his head and yet they still weren't telling him what he needed to know.

"Right," Elle agreed. "When Stephen got to the house he ran into her research partner Thom Hartmann. According to the initial notes they were all supposed to have an early dinner together, but she wasn't in the dorm either. So they went to a Dr. John King…"

"…He's the head of house..." Morgan told them.

"…who called the police."

"They didn't look for her first?" JJ asked. "She could have been somewhere on campus."

"Given all the stress they've been under for the past few weeks Milly's been doing everything she could to provide some stability in Stevie's life, including being even more reliable than usual." Spencer replied. "I would have called them at that point as well."

"They accessed her digital calendar and found out that she met with a social worker at the House earlier this morning and the two of them went back to her family home where they were supposed to meet someone from the family lawyer's office."

"They're packing up the house." Morgan said. "Since the mom lost custody the executor of the estate has to sell so they were moving out."

"When the cops got there they found the house open and from the looks of it, burglarized." Elle went on. "They found the social worker and the legal rep locked in the wine cellar and very upset, no Millicent Bennett. Given that her car was also missing they figured her for the burglary, put out a BOLO and it pinged a flag as related to the FBI. By the time they called us the legal rep had contacted the lawyer, they took him to the house to see what was missing, and his story led them to think kidnapping."

"Yeah, she's already getting half of everything, why rob the place and run?" Morgan asked.

"Exactly," Hotch agreed. "They're treating this as a kidnapping; the CARD team is already on the ground. We're going in to build a profile and victimology, but they're the experts, they get lead. Reid, I know how badly you want to fix this but you have to go in as a family member on this one. You know all the players and were out there recently. You're the best observer we have. And if you get too involved the defense can say that you swayed the investigation, which means no handling evidence and no going on interviews. Got it?" Spencer nodded a little too much, but he was hearing. "And you have to know, we're probably going to have to go through everything. You may not have any secrets left after this."

"If it gets Milly back I don't care." Spencer replied. "And I know Thom won't either. If anyone has a problem with the way we live our lives it's their problem."

"All right; when we get there you and I and Gideon will go to the family home, you have the best chance of noticing what might be out of place. Elle, JJ, you go interview the witnesses at the hospital. Morgan, you go to Galois house and gather up any papers or anything that might give us any sort of a clue."

"You know the step-mother probably has something to do with it." Morgan said.

"We can't go in with any preconceptions." Gideon reminded him. "We do this step-by-step so we don't miss anything."

"You'll also want to go through the papers in her lab." Spencer told them. "You might want to contact Dr. King and see if anyone from the JPL team is familiar enough with her work to come out and go through them."

"How much paper are we talking about?" JJ asked.

"A lot," Morgan replied.

"Well we have our work cut out for us." Gideon told them all.

We have to do this, Hotch thought; we simply have to do this. I will not have Reid's family be the ninth we lose today.

* * *

**.**

* * *

**Note: **OK, since the last chapter didn't work as well as a cliffhanger as I'd hoped I'm throwing in another short chapter this evening. Also: Bwahahahaha!

Unfortunately at this point I need to go down to a once-a-day publishing schedule. This is either because I want to stay far enough ahead that I can take a day off and not have to skip a day of publishing or because I am a sadistic evil monster, take your pick.


	28. Part 4: Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

**1425 Hillcrest Ave  
****Pasadena, CA  
****11/15/05**

**Hotch**

When they reached the house it was swarming with cops, brightly lit, fully open. As soon as they were out of the car Hotch watched as a tall, athletic young man in dress trousers and a dark polo detach himself from the side of an older Hispanic man in a bad suit and all but ran over to Spencer. For a few moments they almost had a bubble around them, keeping the world at bay. The intimate connection would be obvious for any of the observers here.

And one of them was approaching him, an older black woman with FBI all over her jacket. "Aaron Hotchner?" She guessed, holding out her hand. "I'm Carol Mack, head of the Child Abduction Rapid Deployment team One West." Introductions were made all around. "Now tell me if I have this right." She said, leading him off to one side and nodding to Spencer. "Nineteen?"

"He came in as Jason Gideon's protégée."

"And you were good with that?"

"After keeping him on probation for a year. He's good, I'd put my life on it. In fact I did a few weeks ago, he's the one who took down Phillip Dowd."

"Really?" That surprised her. "All right, and Romeo over there is engaged to a seventeen year old molecular biologist who's working on a research project for NASA?"

Hotch just nodded. When you put it like that… "They don't act their age. You get used to it after a while."

"I get that. I was talking to Dr. Hartmann over there it took me the entire interview to realize that he's seventeen, not twenty-seven. How did they all end up here?"

"CalTech has a program for extremely advanced students. Gideon had been keeping an eye on it for years looking for a recruit."

"Well, that makes sense. Do you have anything so far?"

"Maybe, but we want to see the crime scene first."

"This way."

They headed for the house where Gideon was standing with Spencer, Thom and a man who was introduced as Carlos Sosa, DCFS. Right after they got there Morgan joined them. "JJ and Elle are in with the witnesses. They both have injuries consistent with a taser hit."

"So that's how the Unsub subdued them and got them into the house." Hotch surmised.

"Yeah, but why a taser?" Gideon took the opposite, arguing to understand. "Why not use a gun to persuade them? Why assume you have to get that kind of control right off?"

Morgan thought a moment. "This is why." He dropped the magazine from his weapon, cleared it to safe. "Okay, you three are Milly, the social worker and the legal rep. I've got a gun on you, I tell one of you to get in the car and the other two to go downstairs."

"And the one in the car goes running when my back is turned." Hotch realized. "So without the taser we'd have to have more than one person."

"Yeah, but a taser charge only puts you down so long. This is a big house; having to drag two women down to the cellar is going to take a while."

"So we're still talking more than one person." Hotch nodded, "Which means there is more than one Unsub. Back to why not a gun? We're not going to fight against three or four armed men."

"You're not. Come here." Morgan pulled Hotch out of the group and replaced him with Thom. Then he pointed the gun again. "Get down to the cellar." The three of them moved, but then Thom pivoted, stepped in to Morgan's reach, twisted the gun out of his hands before anyone could see how, and lightly tapped the inside of the older man's thigh with his knee, pulling what should have been a vicious attack to his groin, before stepping out of the way. "That's why. Disarming a handgun is a standard Krav technique, as is taking on a group. Milly is seventeen, built sturdy like her old man, plays rugby and has that kind of training. _I'd_ want a taser to take her down."

"So who knew about her training?" Carol asked.

"I didn't." Carlos Sosa replied. He frowned at Thom as the younger man returned Morgan's weapon. "I'd remember signing a permission slip for those classes."

Thom managed to look very guilty. "Sometimes it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission."

Sosa sagged. "I knew there had to be something. You were always just too easy to work with."

"Did the school know?" Gideon asked.

Thom shook his head. "They thought we were taking dancing lessons." He admitted. "But Milly's dad did."

"Which means the stepmother did as well." Hotch looked around. "Has anyone located her?"

"Not yet." Carol admitted. "But she's going higher up the list."

"Contract hit?" Gideon wondered. "With Milly gone her brother, Sharon's son, gets all the inheritance."

Thom immediately turned pale. "Oh god." He groaned as he turned away.

But Spencer was frowning. "That doesn't quite fit." He pointed out. "Stevie's thirteen. In California any minor over the age of twelve has a right to say who they want for a guardian. Stevie's angry enough already to call his mother out, if there was any indication that Sharon was involved in Milly's disappearance he'd never consent to going back to her."

"I've done cases like that before." Carol pointed out. "Mom is usually right in the middle of everything, crying a river, trying to make it look legit. So are we saying not the stepmom?"

"No, I'm saying it's probably not a hit. Sharon Bennett is a classic case of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. She reacts to criticism with anger, shame or humiliation, she takes advantage of others to reach her personal goals, she exaggerates her own importance, she has unreasonable expectation of favorable treatment, she requires constant attention and positive reinforcement from others, she disregards the feelings of others, she lacks empathy and she is easily jealous."

"She always was jealous of Milly's relationship with her father." Thom agreed. "There was a…a fairly violent incident a few weeks ago where Sharon cornered Milly in the kitchen and flat out said that her father like her best and she knew because she was the one he was fucking."

Spencer frowned at Thom. "No one ever told me about that."

"It wasn't worth coming back from DC."

"So you think she did this out of jealousy over a dead man?" Carol asked.

Spencer got back on point. "No. Mark Bennett structured his estate to all but shut Sharon out, and he did it in a way designed to humiliate her. Like most Narcissists Sharon can't handle humiliation or shame so she projects it onto her Designated Scapegoat, someone of less social status in the family or community who can be made to take all the blame for everything that goes wrong in the Narcissists life. Milly was Sharon's designated scapegoat."

"So Sharon would think that what she got or didn't get from the estate was all Milly's fault." Gideon nodded. "She'd want to punish her for it."

"But that wouldn't get her any more money." Morgan considered. "I'm going to have Garcia dig into the family financials, just in case."

"Punish her by making her disappear?" Carol asked.

"That could be part of it." Hotch agreed. "She could be thinking that if she got rid of the scapegoat all that negative influence would be out of her life and she could start over."

"That goes along with what we found in the house." Carol nodded them inside and up the stairs and looked over at Spencer. "When was the last time you were here?'

"Last week, after the funeral," Spencer replied. "Morgan was here with me. Milly and Stevie were packing to move."

"All right. Master bedroom…"

"I've never been in the master bedroom." Spencer said. By then Morgan had rejoined them.

"…looked like the lady of the house packed for a trip. In addition there were a number of small safes left open, ones the lawyer didn't know about."

"That sounds like running to me." Morgan said.

"The boy's room," Carol led them to the door. "Looks like someone started packing up as well."

"No." Morgan corrected. "I was helping him. This is the way we left it the last time we were here."

"What about Milly's rooms?" Spencer asked. He went around to look, followed by Thom and then Hotch.

They were empty.

As in down to the furniture and paint on the walls _empty_.

"I'm guessing you didn't leave them like this?" Hotch asked. Spencer shook his head.

"What about the trunk?" Thom asked.

"Trunk?" Carol asked.

"Her great-grandmother's trunk," Thom replied. "Milly's dad specifically gave that to her in the will."

They led them to a concealed access hatch off the back stairs and into a small storage area. "It's gone too." Spencer told them. When he came out he looked bone deep angry. "Sharon _erased_ her."

"Who else would have known this was here other than family?" Carol asked.

"We need to find Sharon Bennett." Hotch agreed.


	29. Part 4: Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

**FBI Office  
Federal Building  
Los Angeles, CA  
11/16/05**

**Hotch**

They did everything they could at the crime scene last night, but eventually Hotch had to send his team off to sleep; or at least to attempt to sleep. "Did he sleep at all?" He asked Morgan.

"I don't think so." Morgan replied. He'd been sitting guard duty on Spencer all night, making sure he didn't go off in some unknown direction. Not surprisingly Spencer looked like hell. "At least he was quiet about it."

"All right." They found Gideon and headed to the conference room where the rest of the team was waiting, along with Carol and the day shift from the CARD team. "Let's go over what we have." Hotch sat where he could see Spencer's face.

"Is that all her paperwork?" Gideon nodded at the three boxes at the end of the table."

"Not even close." Carol replied. "That's what we found in the dorm. The University has a team from the JPL going through the stuff from her lab, there's a ton of it. Between that and her computer it's going to take a while."

"I wouldn't make it a priority." Spencer told them. "Milly's highly organized, she always kept her personal and professional lives separate. If there's anything it will be in with her personal effects."

"Good to know." Carol said. She looked over at Spencer. "Are we going to find anything embarrassing in there?"

"Probably, but right now I don't care." He replied.

"We interviewed Donna Ng and Kelly Jameson, the legal rep and the social worker last night." Elle told them. "They both had the same story, just as they were getting to the house Sharon Bennett showed up in her car followed by a white van which blocked the driveway. As they were confronting Sharon four men exited the van, all white, all in their late twenties to early thirties. They pulled out what the two witnesses took to be guns, then the shock hit, the next thing they remember they were in the wine cellar with no cell signal."

"We found the car this morning." One of Carol's people spoke up. "Sharon Bennett sold it to a local junkyard, they checked for BOLO's when they got into work. The tow driver said that Ace Hauling was at the house when he got there. We interviewed them and they said Sharon Bennett had them clean out the rooms, she said that her stepdaughter had chosen to run off with some guy so she wasn't coming back."

"Where are her things?" JJ asked.

"Spread all over the LA county landfill." He replied.

"Ouch."

Just then Morgan's phone rang. "Talk to me babygirl." He answered. "And be nice, you're on speaker."

"With family in trouble I'm always nice." Garcia replied. "So with the lawyers help I've gone over all the financials. Sharon Bennett has been siphoning money into a Swiss bank account since 2002."

For the first time Hotch saw Spencer react. "That's when they started having marital trouble." Spencer told them.

"How much, Garcia?" Gideon asked.

"Six million, easy."

"With that kind of money you can buy a whole new identity." Elle pointed out. "She could be anywhere."

"Can we flag that account?" Hotch asked.

"Swiss banks are called Swiss banks for a reason, Sir." Garcia said. "I can't promise anything on this one; it would be faster to try to go through legal channels." Carol nodded one of her people to get on that.

"So she hired someone to take the girl away and punish her and got in the wind." Gideon summed up, "Figuring that all her troubles were behind her. The question is, what would Sharon consider suitable punishment?"

"The only place to find a clue is in how she treated Milly." Morgan said. "What she said, how she said it. Hopefully we'll find some clue here." He nodded at the papers.

"We'll also need to interview the people who witnessed their interactions." Hotch said. "Gideon, will you take Reid? Morgan, you take Thom Hartmann."

"How about I take Stevie?" Morgan said. "We kind of hit it off over the funeral; I think I can get through to him faster."

"I'll take Thom." Elle said. "They should be on their way here."

"And I'll take Gary Douran when he gets here." Hotch finished.

"I'll talk to the press; get this new information out there." JJ added.

They broke up, JJ to an empty office to work, Hotch and Gideon taking Spencer aside; Elle and Morgan getting into the papers while they waited for Thom and Stevie. It wasn't long before they hit their first snag. "Letters from DC," Elle said. She looked up at Spencer. "I assume from you?" He nodded. She pulled one out for a look. "Reid!" She held up a page covered with what looked like random numbers and symbols. "Was this really necessary?"

"I can recite it back for you, if you like. But, uh, given the date…." He came over to look closer. "Looking at the file on the Seattle Strangler would be faster."

"I was there. No, the ones we'd want would be the ones she wrote to you." Elle replied. "I assume they're in DC?"

"I can recite those back as well, if you need them."

"How many are we talking?"

"Seven hundred and ninety-four."

"Interviewing would be faster."

Morgan was looking into the basket. "These are all her great-grandmothers?"

"Yeah, those are the ones she was going to go through." Spencer sighed. "Just be careful with those, she already lost the wedding dress."

"We'll find a way to fix that." Morgan said. "She'll have a beautiful wedding. Just you watch."

"Why letters?" Elle asked. "Why not call or e-mail?"

Spencer pointed the basket. "They become treasure later on."

"Okay that's sweet." Elle pulled out a scrapbook, and Hotch saw Spencer visibly wince. "Impressive artist," she started flipping through… "Oh god!" She closed her eyes a moment, flipped through the rest quickly and closed the book. "Someone hand me an evidence bag, please."

"What?" Morgan asked.

"No." She held it away from him.

"Why not?"

"I am not that mean."

"Come on."

"Morgan." She said, patiently, "What the eyes see the mind cannot unsee. Including where Reid has a birthmark."

"I knew it." Morgan told her. "I knew there had to be something."

Elle looked over at Spencer. "Thom's an incredible artist." She said as she sealed the scrapbook away, "Remarkable detail."

All of their teasing had Spencer more focused on to the room around him, at least, and perhaps even got a hint of a smile. "Thanks. I think." He replied. "He does concept drawings for the Jet Propulsion Lab. It's part of his gift, being able to render drawings to perfect scale after seeing a subject one time."

Just then the door opened. Dr. John King came in carrying a large file box, followed by an agent carrying two more. "What's this?" Gideon asked.

"Counseling and observation notes," Hotch had been watching Spencer since Dr. King came in and now he saw him shut down completely. "I'm sorry." King said to Spencer. "They have a court order and given the situation…"

"No, I understand. Excuse me." Spencer pushed past everyone and headed out the door, Hotch took one look at Gideon and they followed. They ended up in an atrium at the end of the hall. Spencer stopped there, too lost to go any further.

"You know we have to do this." Gideon said gently. "You know it's the only way to find her."

"I know. It's just…."

"Reid." Hotch got his attention. "What are we going to find in those files?"

Spencer took a deep breath. "It started back in '01." He said, too quietly. "I still don't know if it was triggered by Milly being accepted at CalTech or because she started hanging around with us, but Sharon got the idea that Milly wasn't developing right. She hadn't…she hadn't started her cycles and she wasn't showing any real secondary sex characteristics yet…."

"She was…thirteen." Hotch asked. "That's not unusual."

"No, but during puberty we're all vulnerable when it comes to how we look, are we developing right." Gideon pointed out. "That's a big point of vulnerability for a scapegoat. And being the mother of a sick child could have upped the emotional feedback Sharon was getting from her friends."

Spencer nodded. "She started dragging her to every doctor she could find, all the while telling her that because she was athletic and interested in science she…she wasn't developing right. She kept buying her boys clothes, was on her to cut off her hair, everything she could think of to humiliate Milly and make her miserable. Milly got depressed and just…she wrapped herself up in her work and tried not to think about it but we could see how much it was hurting her. Then…"

"What happened?" Gideon prompted him.

"Sharon took her in for a pelvic ultrasound." Spencer admitted, finally. "She said it was the only way to be sure."

"Transvaginal?" Spencer nodded too hard and Hotch winced. "Haley had to have one of those early in her pregnancy. I can imagine how that went with a thirteen year old virgin."

"She has Sensory Processing Disorder. I mean we all do to an extent but she's overly sensitive to touch. And Sharon didn't give them her full medical history so they didn't adapt the test for it." Spencer's eyes were starting to fill up. "It was excruciatingly painful for her. She...she said she begged them to stop, but Sharon told them to keep going, get it done."

"There's a term for that." Gideon muttered. "It's called rape."

"She said as soon as they let her off the table she ran out the door and caught the bus for campus. We found her sobbing in our bathroom." Spencer was holding himself; that upset at the memory. "She was so scared and in so much pain and bleeding and…she was certain that they'd hurt her somehow. Something.… lasting. We sat there for an hour until her Dad came for her."

"I assume she was all right physically." Hotch said.

Spencer nodded, "Yeah. Yeah. She was. Just bruises and her..." He swallowed hard. After that her Dad made Sharon stop and he…separated them more or less and we found a way to screw Sharon over…"

"How?" Gideon asked.

Spencer managed a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Any policy agreed upon by the Full Membership of a House that isn't illegal or dangerous has to be supported by the University. We voted in a House uniform requirement."

"And the other guys went along with it?" Gideon asked.

"It was just Thom and I and Venkman and Spengler. We told them we were in essence pranking Milly's evil stepmom and they fell right in line. The guys had to wear jackets and ties and we let Milly decided what she wanted for the girls. That way at least at school her appearance had to match the gender she perceived herself to be which did wonders for her self-concept. And Dr. King got her into targeted counseling then she started getting _better_. She and Thom started taking Krav, which, you know, was as much for them as it was for me. Her Dad gave her an allowance to start buying her own clothes and uniforms so she was meeting her own needs which gave her a sense of autonomy. Thom and I started buying her hair ribbons because it... it seemed like the kind of thing a pretty girl should have and we wanted to encourage her to see herself the way we see her. And then about four months later she started puberty, and she was _fine_. She moved past it. It's not…it's not part of her now. The only place it still existed was in those files from when she got counseling."

"Then we need to look at them." Gideon said. "Is that when their marriage started breaking up? When he took his daughter's side?"

Spencer nodded. He was lost in the past, lost in thought. Not good, Hotch thought. "Reid?" He tried to get the younger man's focus back as Gideon moved away, lost in thought. "Reid?"

"I told her, that day, I told her…Thom can't and so I told her…when she turned eighteen I would…I'd make it right somehow. That it would just be me, I _promised_ her. That was the first time I told her I'd marry her, the first time we talked about it. You know, and… and now _this_ happened." He was looking out the window at the bright LA sun, a day too bright for all this somehow. "How do I do this, Hotch? You're married; tell me how I do this, please."

"We find her." He replied. "We find her and then you spend the rest of your life making it right. Until one day you'll wake up and realize that you have."

"While she's here and I'm in DC?" Spencer turned to him finally. "How do I do that? Stevie's probably going into foster care, he was at the House as Milly's guest, he's not enrolled there and they're not set up for neurotypical children. And Thom's going to be at the House all alone, not knowing what's going on with the rest of us. How do I do this Hotch? How do I go hunt Unsubs when my family is…is falling apart?"

Damn, Hotch thought. That's a good question. He looked at Spencer's face and remembered a hot Virginia day and his reflection in the window in a kitchen door and knew that he had to do something. "You don't." He said, quietly. "But I think I can fix this. At least I can try. Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

And just like that Spencer trusted him with his family and for a moment, and after Arnold and all of it, Hotch felt very humbled. Now I have to be the strong one, he thought, because I have to be. "All right, go let Gideon interview you. I'll go see what I can do. I just hope Haley doesn't kill me."

"Why?"

"Just go."

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** This story comes with a cut scene over on the LiveJournal account associated with this story. The link is located toward the bottom of my profile.


	30. Part 4: Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

**FBI Office  
Federal Building  
Los Angeles, CA  
11/16/05**

**Spencer**

Spencer watched Hotch go and mentally crossed his fingers. He didn't know how Hotch was going to fix it; he only knew that he had to. He couldn't just go back to DC and leave Thom and Stevie here. That would be impossible.

"What happened after Sharon got back?" Gideon asked.

"Huh?" Right, back to this.

"What happened after Sharon got back from the spa? There's no way a narcissist would have let that go."

Spencer thought back. "Um, I don't know."

"Milly didn't tell you?"

"No. She was working with a counselor by then. I…I got the feeling that she wanted to move on at that point."

"You've learned a lot since then. Think back; Rape Trauma Syndrome, acute stage. How was she reacting?"

Spencer thought about it, not from his point-of-view then, but from his point-of-view now. "Controlled," he replied, "very much so."

"What happened when Sharon got back?"

"Stage two? Minimization, suppression, enhanced startle response, exaggerated concern for her brother's well being…"

"Sexual repression?"

"You…you could interpret it that way; almost from a…a social mores perspective."

"This is how good girls behave in our society and I am a good girl so I will behave this way?"

"Yes, and a desire to retreat, both in age and in sexuality. Her decision to go back to wearing a school uniform…but she didn't act that way around us."

"Sure? Very prim, very proper?"

"Yes but…I didn't see it that way at the time."

"That's because you fantasize about characters from 19th century literature; anything else?"

"You don't know that!" Spencer was stung, that was personal.

"You carry around well-worn copies of _A Room with a View_, and _The Age of Innocence _even though you memorize everything you read. When did she start taking Krav?"

"About three weeks after."

"Okay, why?"

"They…they said it was to make me feel safer on campus." And that was hard to admit, no one else had known that, ever.

"CalTech offers Karate, Kung fu, Kempo, Tai chi and Tang Soo Do. Why not take one of those? Why go out of their way, lie to the University, get Thom to lie to his social worker, and probably pay for both slots to study a combat martial art?"

"Thom…"

"Not Thom. Milly's the dominant personality in the House, no offence. Why would _she_ go there?"

Why would she? "Because she didn't feel safe after the trauma."

"Was she defending herself against the doctor? Why wait so long?"

Spencer thought a long moment. "Because she was re-traumatized by someone else. And she didn't say anything."

"Minimization. Suppression. Control." They were back in the conference room, with the boxes Dr. King had brought. Gideon started digging. "That incident was a turning point. Whatever happened after that is what led to what's happening now. Here." Thankfully the files were filed by date; it was easy to find the one they wanted. "Bingo. According to the counseling notes Milly said that Sharon turned the incident into a slut-shaming episode, said she got upset because she realized just how much of a little whore she was, her words, how much she liked cock, and that she thought she was never going to get any any other way. Then Sharon offered to bring some friends over to show Milly what she was missing."

It's probably a good thing Sharon isn't here, Spencer thought, I might have to strangle her with my bare hands. "She would have interpreted that as a threat. She would have been afraid of being assaulted again in her own home. Why didn't she tell us?"

Gideon nodded as he kept reading. "Because Sharon kept asking if she was performing sexually with one or both of you. In the meantime the counseling staff alerted her father to the potential threat which protected Milly but caused more friction in the marriage. Finally she told Sharon you two were gay and dating each other to get her off her back. She didn't want you to know that she said that."

"I wouldn't have minded." But it would have stung a little. He could see Milly not wanting to do that.

"In the meantime she shuts down, goes all prim and proper to counteract Sharon's accusations. I am not that, I am _this_. Did anything happen to change that image?"

Spencer thought, "The reading of the will. Mark Bennett left me Milly's hand in marriage."

"So Milly lied to her." Gideon almost naturally slipped into Sharon Bennett's point-of-view; it was his gift of genius. "All this time she was playing the prim schoolgirl, the proper professor, too uptight to date let alone fuck so she hangs around with two men she swore were gay only as it turned out she was fucking at least one of them, probably both. Maybe even her old man too, after all he left her all the money, he must have had a reason. And all the while laughing behind Sharon's back."

Damn it. "That would fit the profile. So Sharon is punishing her for her sexuality. Do you think…." He swallowed; his throat suddenly tight with fear. "…sex trade? Punish her that way?"

Gideon thought a moment. "No, that would be another hit. Perverse as it sounds it would read as the pimp wanting Milly over Sharon, Sharon's ego wouldn't take that. No, she'd want to send her where bad little sluts go to get punished, where they aren't going to get any." Gideon looked up as Carol came into the room. "Teenage girl in California is out of control sexually. Where do her parents send her?"

Carol stopped and looked at him blankly a moment. "Son of a bitch," she growled.

"What?"

"They send them to a home for wayward girls, usually run by a church. Only those aren't legal in California so they send them out of state." Carol quickly moved to her laptop. "The MO fits, four guys, a van, some kind of sedative or restraint to get them to travel. They usually grab the kid at night; the disorientation helps to subdue them. That's why I didn't see it right off."

"Galois House has excellent security." Gideon pointed out. "They couldn't get to her at night. But they knew where she'd be and when, the lawyers had a schedule of who could go pack at what time."

"It's a big problem in the state right now given that California lets teens have a say in their medical treatment as young as twelve in some cases. Taking them out of state denies them their rights. There's a court case going through California right now to decide if even sending them out of state against their will is legal." Carol said

"If it's a school or a.…a church home, why hasn't she called?" Spencer asked.

"Because they keep those places off the grid; no internet, one landline, strictly controlled, the number unlisted and then under a personal name, not as a business, ostensibly to keep Romeo from coming to rescue Juliet before she gets right with God. Their existence is passed by word of mouth between churches. Who's Sharon's pastor?"

"Sharon doesn't go to church." Spencer replied. "She sleeps in on Sundays."

"If these places are so secret she couldn't go to a random pastor and get a number." Gideon pointed out. "And anyone she knew would know she's not Milly's mother. She couldn't sign the paperwork."

Click. "Patricia Gault." Spencer said.

"Who?"

"Milly's mother," Spencer was already moving to check another file, and pull out his phone. "Garcia?"

"Hey, junior g-man, how are you holding up?"

"All right so far. We need contact information for a Robert Hardwick or a Patricia or John Gault in Cut Bank, Montana."

"Okay can do and…can't do. Robert Hardwick died six years ago, Patricia Gault went off the grid after she divorced Mark Bennett and John Gault only has a driver's license with a PO Box for an address. I have no phone number, no electrical account, I have nothing."

"No phone number." Spencer thought a moment. "Mark Bennett has safes in his house that his lawyer didn't know about. He might have had more contact information for his ex-wife as well. Sharon only had days to set this up. How do you get a hold of someone quickly when you only have an address? Garcia, see if you can check overnight delivery services, see if any of them delivered to an unusual address, out in the country, someplace not a business…"

"Someplace like a church?"

"Yes! Yes, a church would be…would be…"

"Mountain View Baptist Church," she rattled off a number. "They received a package from Beverly Hills four days ago."

"Thank you Garcia!" Spencer's heart was pounding. If it was a school of some sort, something out of state, then she might still be in transit. They could have the police waiting for her; she'd be back in time for breakfast.

Gideon was already on the phone. "Hello. Please listen to me very carefully. My name is Jason Gideon, I'm with the FBI. I need to speak to your senior pastor." Pause. "That's fine." Pause. "Pastor Barnes? My name is Jason Gideon; I'm with the FBI..." Pause. "As far as I know he hasn't done anything, why do you ask?" Pause. Gideon winced. "Do you have a member of your congregation, a Patricia Gault?" Pause. "I need to contact her." Pause and frustrated sigh. "Did Pastor Clark recently refer her to a place where she could get help for her daughter? He did? Do you know where?" Pause and wince again. "Are you sure?" Pause. "That would be very helpful. Let me give you the number to our unit so you can contact us with that information." He rattled off the number. "Thank you. Thank you." He rang off.

Spencer had a sinking feeling that refused to stop, "Anything?"

"He did make the referral. But the contact information was in his organizer, which he took with him when he ran out on his wife after receiving a package from California that contained a large quantity of cash." Spencer and Carol both groaned. "Patricia and John live well out in the hills, they already have four feet of snow on the ground and rising, and they're not going to be able to get to them until spring."

"So we know she was sent to one of these homes, we just don't know which one." Carol said.

"Yeah, but how big can Cut Bank be?" Spencer asked. "If we go out there and ask around surely someone will know where it is?" Yes, he was getting a little desperate here; maybe a lot desperate here.

"It's probably not in Montana." Carol replied. "They usually have these things in places like Illinois, Ohio, Louisiana, and other states where church schools are not regulated. That said I will contact the CARD team for that area and send them out to ask the rest of the congregation if any of them have sent anyone off. Just don't expect an answer, the parents who do this are either in the middle of a custody battle or deeply ashamed of whatever is going on, they rarely if ever talk about it. And I'll send them out for any known or suspected homes. We'll keep banging on doors until we find her."

Spencer sighed. The CARD teams were the experts at this. The BAU dealt with different issues. "Thank you. I just…"

"I know. If it's any consolation the chances of us finding her alive just went up over 95%."

"Yeah, but…what condition is she going to be in when we find her?"

Carol sighed. "I'll send you my files, evidence notes, interviews with victims, research, everything we've got. But if she's anything like the other kids I met in that House of yours, she's smart and she's strong, she'll make it."

"Thank you."

Then Gideon was at his elbow. "Come on. Hotch needs us down at the courthouse."

* * *

.

* * *

**Note: **End of Part 4

There is a link that goes with this chapter over at the LiveJournal account associated with this story. The link can be found toward the bottom of my profile.


	31. Part 5: Chapter 31

_**Part 5**_

_Shared pain is lessened. Shared joy is increased.  
- Spider Robinson_

* * *

**Chapter 31**

**Pasadena Courthouse  
300 East Walnut St.  
Pasadena, CA  
11/16/05**

**Spencer**

He couldn't do it.

Spencer sat in the courthouse hallway outside a small courtroom, next to Gideon, and considered the future before him. Thom would probably go right back to CalTech, the oldest in the dorm now by many years. He'd be all alone there and knowing his history, how this would read as a repeat trauma, he'd probably slip into depression. The counselors were going to have to work at getting him out of bed, moving, eating, bathing. He'd want to stay deep in his dreams, where his family was whole and he was wrapped in their love. Spencer couldn't blame him one bit.

And Stevie? His father dead, his mother gone, the sister who had truly raised him missing, and now his home taken from him, everything else he ever knew. Did they even have a foster bed for him tonight, or would they stick him in Juvie for lack of anywhere else to warehouse him on such short notice? And who would advocate for him, who would be there to badger the court to get him what he needed, anything from counseling to having his braces adjusted? Would he think his brothers-in-law were just abandoning him to his fate? Would he ever trust anyone again?

There was only one solution. He was going to have to quit the Bureau.

The CARD teams would keep looking, loyalty inside the Bureau ran deep; you didn't mess with an Agent's family. There was nothing more he could do anyway, now that they had a profile. The team would go on to the next emergency, the next Unsub, which they could do perfectly well without him. And thanks to Mark's generosity he no longer had to worry about his Mom, Bennington was well and truly covered. She'd be fine.

So he'd quit. Move back out here. Take what savings he had and get an apartment, nothing fancy. Find a job, teach maybe. Spend his days going back and forth between Thom and Stevie, checking in, seeing what they needed and getting it for them, being their advocate. Making sure they knew they were loved and not forgotten.

And when Milly was back…when Milly was back she'd get custody of Stevie, and he'd marry her and make sure he had custody as well and then they'd all move back to DC. Settle in some apartment in Mount Pleasant or Woodbury Park. Toss them into a big bed, read them stories and feed them cocoa until everyone felt safe and loved and home at last. Then he'd go to Hotch and beg for his badge again.

Yeah, that's what he would do. It was the only thing he _could_ do.

The door opened and people started coming out, Hotch first, followed by Dr. King and Carlos Sosa and Gary Douran and a woman he didn't know. He dropped a file of paperwork down on the bench next to Spencer while he turned to the knot of people to say a few last things.

Spencer took that as an invitation and opened the file. Inside were court orders transferring custody of Thomas Andrew Hartmann Jr., Millicent Ruth Bennett and Stephen George Bennett to Aaron and Haley Hotchner of Stafford, Virginia, and transferring their cases to the Stafford County VA Probate Court.

Spencer's brain decided to go have a bit of a lie down for a while.

"Thank you." Gideon said as Hotch turned to them. "He was about to quit on us."

"I'm sure." Hotch replied. "Well, the way we have the house set up it won't be too much trouble for Haley. It should work out fine." He looked down at Spencer, who was still on the bench, the file open on his knees. "Take them back to the University, pack what they'll need for a week. And have Thom bring whatever he'll need for his work with the JPL, he'll be telecommuting through the Goddard Center out in Maryland."

"We're wah…" There had to be a reset button inside his skull somewhere.

Hotch all but chuckled at Spencer's confusion. "I'll explain it all on the plane. Don't let them take too much, there's only so much room. Keep your cell phone on. And just remember, I outshoot you." Hotch and Gideon headed back to work.

* * *

**Gulfstream G-IV  
Tail number N4SP  
Southwestern airspace**

The CARD teams were looking for Milly in every place she was likely to be. But the one place they knew she wasn't was in California. So there was no reason to stay.

Thom and Stevie had each packed one large duffle with clothing, the warmest they had, and one backpack with books and personal goods. Thom had three file boxes full of his work for the JPL. Everything else of Thom's and Stevie's would be packed up and Gary Douran would see it shipped back to DC. Milly's work was being farmed out to the rest of her team, with the promise that her name would remain on any work or reports so she would get full credit. And her belongings had been taken into evidence. But that's all right; Spencer had thought as he put his go-bag in the cargo hold of the plane, things can be replaced. They had the irreplaceable things, the letters and journals from her great-grandmother, the rings he and Thom still wore on their fingers, and Stevie. That's what mattered.

Now it was late. The lights in the cabin were dim; Thom, Stevie and the rest of the team were sprawled across the seats, sleeping. All except for Hotch, he came and sat down across from Spencer. "I just…thank you." Spencer told him. "Thank you. It's…you have a new baby at home, and…."

"We have a finished basement that we're not even using." Hotch told him quietly. "Stevie will be starting at St. Alban's right off; I already spoke to the headmaster. And according to Virginia state law, since Thom doesn't have a high school transcript, as a ward of the court he must enroll in high school."

"High school?" Spencer was flabbergasted. And a little sick, he remembered high school…

Hotch nodded. "I know. But we don't have much of a choice there. Remember, though, he's the same age as the other students, not twelve. That should make a difference."

Okay. That should be okay. "He'll be able to telecommute?" And he wouldn't have to worry about teaching, he could focus. But then processing everything that had happened would be its own part-time job for him.

"Yes. The Goddard Center is a few hours away, but they have an office in DC if he needs to go in. It sounded like he could work from home much of the time. But when we're not working I expect you to help me keep them out of Haley's hair."

"Of course," he'd keep them out of the house as much as possible, if that's what it took.

"During the week, while we're in the field, you'll know they're safe at St. Alban's and with Haley, and if they need a suitably old enough advocate I'll be there for them."

"Thank you." It was exactly what was needed. It was everything. It was amazingly generous and helpful and… "Um, why are you helping us?"

Hotch looked out the window for a while. "The summer after I graduated high school, I was eighteen, Haley was sixteen, and…her parents decided we were moving too fast. One day I went to her house after work and she was gone. No note, no word, nothing, and her mother refused to tell me where she was. It turned out she spent the summer with her Aunt and Uncle in a rural part of the state, learning to ride horses, make her peach cobbler and beat her cousins at Scrabble. But I didn't know that, I thought she'd been sent to one of those homes. I didn't know where she was or…."

"…what was happening to her." Spencer finished. It had been thirty-six hours since Milly was taken, enough time for them to reach one of those homes in Illinois or Ohio. Whatever was happening to her was happening _now_ and he was helpless to reach out and make it stop. Hang on my love, he thought, we'll make it better. Just don't give up.

Hotch was nodding. "I have never faced anything as terrifying as I did that summer. But because I was eighteen and she was sixteen, I didn't have any rights in the matter. Most people didn't even think I had any rights to how I felt, I was a kid; how could it be a big deal?" He sighed. "I told myself that if my son was ever in that position I'd fight for him, because when it's real, age doesn't matter."

Spencer thought about that a long moment. "I'm not your son."

"You're my friend."


	32. Part 5: Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford VA  
11/17/05**

**Haley**

"Where are they going to sleep?"

"They can sleep on the couches tonight. Tomorrow I'll set them up in the spare rooms in the basement."

"The basement? They can't sleep in the basement."

"It's a finished basement. It's designed for that. Besides, we only have three bedrooms upstairs, ours, Jack's, and my office and I want to keep them well away from my case files."

"There are only two bedrooms down there, where are you going to put the girl?"

"I'll…set the boys up with bunk beds downstairs and we'll set up the other spare room down there for her."

"The boys are going to share a room?

"Maybe, we'll have to see if Stephen is up to moving into the dorm at St. Alban's."

"What are we going to do for breakfast?"

"I'll take us all out."

"Jack's not old enough yet."

"Then I'll go to the diner and bring something back. And I'll pick up more groceries, school clothes, beds, boots and whatever else they need. Before you ask Gary Douran is covering it all out of the estate. He said Mark Bennett would have wanted it that way."

She sighed. "Why do I feel like you're bringing home a puppy?"

"I also promise to change their water bowls and walk them three times a day."

She laughed, "All right, all right."

* * *

That had been yesterday. Very early this morning Aaron had eased into bed next to her. "Jack is asleep." He murmured quietly. "Thom said he'd make coffee in the morning."

Now it was morning. Haley Hotchner let Aaron sleep, got out of bed, did what she did in the morning, fed and changed Jack, snuggled him back down and finally went downstairs to confront the invasion of her home by teenagers. One of them was still asleep, curled up on the love seat under a quilt, only a shock of red hair just long enough to curl showing. The sofa was empty, the blanket neatly folded, the spare pillow resting just so on top. And there was the sweet smell of coffee in the air; she stopped for a mug before anything else.

Standing on her back deck was a young man, nearly as tall as Aaron, dark brown hair, somewhat athletic from what she could tell from the cut of his jeans and conservative blue blazer. For a strange moment she thought; 'That's Jack! That's Jack, all grown up! All grown up and home from school, I know this now!' And for a moment her heart was in her throat. She opened the door and the man on the deck turned and it couldn't be Jack's face, no one in their families had eyes that blue. It was a gentle face all the same, and a handsome one; a face that looked to have been crying, and not too long ago. But it had stopped and the owner pulled a handkerchief out, wiped off and managed a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Good morning." He said in a soft, southern drawl. He gestured to the woods at the end of the property with his mug. "They really do change, don't they? I'm afraid I've gotten used to palm trees."

"Good morning." Haley hadn't known what to expect. Troubled teens, she'd thought, recent loses, foster care, they'd be ragged, rough and broken around the edges, leaving messes in their wake and needed tons of attention just to make it through the day. She did not expect a self-possessed young man who looked and acted like someone Aaron literally brought home from work. "We haven't met yet. I'm Haley."

"Thom Hartmann. Pleasure to meet you, Ma'am. I am sorry about all this; this is not how I expected to move to DC."

"How did you expect to move to DC?"

"Well I thought I was going to be coming out next summer. I'm supposed to be taking on a teaching and research position with the Mechanical and Aerospace Engineering department over at George Washington, and I was going to bunk with Spence and Milly. But now…." He took a deep breath. "I owe you a debt of thanks for opening your home for us. I am so grateful for this."

"You're welcome. You're not exactly what I expected. I take it its Dr. Hartmann?"

"It is at work." He gave her a charming smile, "Surly, troubled youth?"

"Something like that. He told me two teenagers, not someone your age."

That had him chuckling. "Well Stevie, pardon me _Stephen_ as of yesterday, is thirteen and I won't be eighteen until April next. I just don't see any reason to be surly, all of the people here have been nothing but kind. Granted I can't speak for Stephen when he finally rolls himself out of bed. He's, um…" He tapped himself on the head. "…neurotypical. He may react as expected, I just don't know."

That stopped her. "Oh you are not seventeen!"

"Yes, Ma'am, I am. That's why I get to spend the next six months in high school. High school." He gave his mug a disbelieving look as he shuddered. "I've never even been _in_ a high school."

"Well you'll get to socialize with people your own age."

He took a deep breath and looked pained, "Oh dear lord, a school full of freshmen."

She chuckled a little, led him over to the picnic table to sit, finish their coffee and get to know this odd young man a little better. "You don't sound like you're from California."

"No, Ma'am, Greenville, Mississippi. I started at CalTech when I was twelve, been out there ever since."

"Aaron said you were already in the system…"

"Yes, Ma'am, I'm one of, well, twelve at last count. My folks figured they had enough sons; they didn't need one of my…persuasion, which offended their religious beliefs, so they said they'd flat out kill me if I returned to Greenville. At that point CalTech decided it would be better if they took over looking after me, and I had to agree with their assessment."

Haley was shocked. "Are you saying they actually threatened to kill you for being…homosexual?"

"Yes, Ma'am." A sudden thought crossed Thom's face. "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"Of course not!" That was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. Anyone would be proud to have this polite, intelligent, accomplished young man for a son. Who in their right mind would throw them away over something like that?

"Good to know, thank you." They both heard a chugger of a car coming down the street just about then. "That sounds familiar." He got up and off the deck to have a look. "Good Lord, he is still driving Diana's old Volvo. I'll go drag him back here so he doesn't wake the house."

A few moments later Thom came back, followed closely by one Spencer Reid, who was carrying a box of doughnuts and a travel mug. "Did you sleep?" He was asking.

"Do you want me to answer in fractions of hour or just minutes?" Thom replied. "I am not complaining, right now the insomnia is canceling out the jet lag. Besides I slept on the plane. How about you? Hold up." He stopped Spencer long enough to grab a doughnut.

"I didn't sleep on the plane."

"Please tell me that isn't what you intend for breakfast." Haley said, but she helped herself to a cruller. She'd worry about the baby weight tomorrow.

"No, Mrs. Hotchner, more like an appetizer I was going to take Thom out and come back with real food so Hotch wouldn't have to run out first thing in the morning."

"Well, that's appreciated. But if you haven't slept get more coffee before you go."

"Oo, thank you, uh…Ma'am." He headed for the kitchen.

Thom grinned. "Don't mind Spencer, polite speech doesn't sit right with him. He's from Las Vegas where they're all sinful and profane."

"At least I don't sound like a walking anachronism." Spencer gave it right back. He ducked into the kitchen only to confront a not exactly awake Stevie. A moment later he stuck his head out the door. "Can Stevie..._Stephen_ turn on the TV?"

"Uh, the one downstairs. He can take a doughnut down there too, but not too loud, I don't want to wake Jack."

"Yes, Ma'am." A few moments later and a still sleepy Stevie was heading downstairs with two doughnuts wrapped in a paper towel and a blanket wrapped around him. Spencer came back out with coffee. "He'll probably fall asleep again." He predicted. "His body is still on California time."

"Speaking of, if you really didn't sleep at all then I'm driving." Thom told him.

Spencer handed over his keys with ease. "Remember, this isn't California. Speed limits are limits, not suggestions."

"Awww."

Haley found herself laughing. Having teenagers in the house might actually be fun.


	33. Part 5: Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford VA  
11/17/05**

**Hotch**

After Aaron Hotchner got out of bed he checked on Jack, and finding him asleep went to check on his other two boys. He found the couches where he left them empty, but the strains of a television coming up from the basement gave him a lead on their whereabouts. He headed downstairs and found one of them sitting in a cocoon of blanket, watching a Japanese game show, with a couple of uneaten doughnuts in front of him. From the stairs Hotch could see his face, and he was not watching TV at all. "Good morning." He said, and happily at least the boy looked at him. "How did you sleep?" The boy shrugged. "Who brought the doughnuts?" The boy looked at said doughnuts. "Hey." He kept his voice gentle and he sat in the recliner to be at the kid's eye level. "I know I have a reputation for being a mind reader, but I'm really not. And you're not giving me a lot to go on here. Talking would really help." The kid looked away. "It if helps, I want you to know that I'm not trying to replace your Dad, no one can ever do that. Haley and I are just looking after you until your sister gets home. I hate to use the term babysitter but that's probably the best description for what we're doing."

"I know." Stephen said, at last. "Spencer brought the doughnuts. He's out back with Thom and Mrs. Hotchner." He was quiet a little. "I wish my Dad was here. He'd bring Milly home."

"I wish he was here as well." Hotch replied. "But his best bet would still be to ask the FBI for help, so that part wouldn't change."

Stevie was quiet a little more. "If I ask you something, would you not lie? I mean just 'cause I'm a kid."

"Of course, I may not always know the answer, but if I do I'll give you an honest one. But I expect the same back from you. Fair enough?"

"Yeah, that's fair." Stephen looked up, finally. "Is Milly gonna die?"

"I don't know. But even though I don't know with complete certainty the odds are good that they'll keep her alive. As long as she's alive they can go back to your mother…"

"Sharon." Stevie interrupted. "She prefers it."

"…Sharon and ask for more money. That's incentive to keep her alive. But that doesn't mean she'll be okay when she gets back. She'll probably be upset for a long time, and she might be sick or hurt, she might even need to spend some time in a hospital. But you can stay with us until she's healthy enough to look after you again."

"Thanks." Hotch knew that was deeply meant. Stephen considered the game show a bit more. "I should have stayed in LA." He said at last.

Now that was surprising. "Why?"

"Because my sister isn't normal."

Sigh. "Just because the other kids…"

"No." Stephen shook his head. "No, it's not the other kids. One time, I was at her rugby practice and she sprained her ankle really bad. Her coach kept asking her if it hurt and she kept saying no, but when she tried to stand on it, it wouldn't take her weight. Dad was in court so they called Dr. King to come out to get her, and when he got there he asked her what it felt like and she said her ankle felt queasy, like it was sick. But this other time Dad took us to Knott's Berry Farm and I made her take me on La Revolución, which takes you up in the air and spins you around and she did nothing but scream the entire time. I mean even when it was kind of calm. When we got off she said she'd hurt the entire time, that even getting in to go up hurt."

Hotch nodded. "So you're saying she interprets things differently than other people."

"Yeah, I asked Dr. King about it in one of the family counseling sessions and he said that sometimes when kids were really smart like that it was because their brains were all cross-wired, like their brains are internets instead of libraries."

"Everything is hyperlinked. So they don't have to take the time to look through a different book every time they want to access a memory." Interesting, Hotch thought. That's a really good way of explaining Reid. "But that would mean that different sensations would land in different parts of the brain than normal people."

"I think you're supposed to say neurotypical." Stephen pointed out gently.

"Neurotypical," and Reid had said non-neurotypical, "Got it. But what does that have to do with you staying in LA?"

"Well, the only people who have ever really been able to really understand Milly were Dad, Dr. King, Thom and Spencer. Dad's gone now." Clearly he was still lost with that. "And Dr. King had to stay behind with the other kids in the House. That leaves Thom and Spencer to figure out how to help her. But if they're trying to figure out how to help me too, I'm just going to be in the way. I should have stayed in LA and tried to figure out my own stuff. After all, I'm a normal kid, I could get help anywhere."

Pretty smart for a normal kid, Hotch thought. "You're missing a factor. Milly wouldn't be able to concentrate on helping herself if she was worried about you being on the other side of the country and living with strangers. But you also have a point, we're not going to be able to access traditional healing resources, we're going to have to do more of it on our own than I anticipated." Which would be complicated by trying to help Stephen through his issues with grief and trauma. But… "There is a third option." Stephen gave him an interested look. "I could contact the Headmaster at St. Alban's and see if you could board there during the week. You could be with the same kids you'll be going to high school with and since you're already familiar with counseling…"

"They offered it at the House a lot." Stephen nodded.

"… we could arrange it and it would be easier to find some in the city. It's about an hour from here but if I'm remembering my Metro map correctly only about twenty minutes from Reid's apartment. And you could come back here on week-ends to be with your sister and brothers-in-law, but during the week they could focus on helping her, knowing you were safe and relatively okay." And, he thought, on helping each other. "It'll mean living in a dorm though."

"My sister's dorm always looked like fun." Stephen nodded. "That's a good idea, let's do that." And with that he finally dug into his doughnut.

* * *

**Giant Foods  
Doc Stone Commons  
Stafford, VA**

**Spencer**

Not long after he got there Hotch woke up and eventually led a now wide awake Stevie…_Stephen_…out onto the deck. It took Spencer a moment to get used to the idea of Hotch in jeans and a sweatshirt, but upon reflection he realized he was probably going to be spending a lot more off-duty time around Hotch, so he'd better get used to it. Hotch suggested that since they already had doughnuts why not just go to the store for supplies and he'd cook, if they didn't mind scrambled eggs and sausage. No one did so he sent them to get the amount they thought the three of them would eat for breakfast plus some low-cholesterol versions for the adults. In the meantime he'd make another pot of coffee.

It took about ten minutes to get from the quiet, gated community where the Hotchner family lived to the big box shopping area closest; ten quiet, tense minutes. When Thom finally parked they just sat there for a long moment. It was something they did in Galois House, hell something they _learned_ in Galois House. Put up a front, put up your façade, never let them know exactly what you're thinking or feeling because they will never, _ever_ understand and even if it was unintentional odds were you'd get hurt. But together, alone, then they could drop the façade and be open and honest and real. That was why Thom had been so urbane and amusing, to put Haley at ease, and he had been so mildly pleasant and efficient. It was all bullshit, but now they could be real. And that was why, when Thom looked at him, it was with sick, dull horror on his face. "What do you think they're doing to her Spencer?" He asked quietly, "Right now."

"It's hard to tell."

"Bullshit. You didn't sleep on the plane, which means you were doing research on it. This is what you do; you get in the minds of the bad guys. Okay, she's being held by bad guys. What are they doing to her and why aren't we looking for her right now? And don't tell me it's to feed Stevie, there's plenty of room in your back seat for him and a bag of McDonald's."

The second question was the easiest. "We _are_ looking for her. The CARD teams are looking for her. They're the experts; they know how to do this. We've done our part; all we would do now is get in their way."

"Do you trust them?"

"Hotch trusts them."

"Do you trust _him_?"

Spencer considered that a moment. "Fifteen days ago I biffed my weapons qualification so badly they took my gun away. Fourteen days ago I was sitting in a room with twenty-two hostages and Hotch and I were in handcuffs and Hotch knew, he _knew_, that sometimes our brains get in the way of our heads when people try to test us." How easy it was to over think when you think that _fast_. "And he trusted me to catch the…the hints that he was giving me and to get the shot." He was quiet a moment, trying to explain and not finding the words. "And just yesterday he got that I needed you here." Spencer looked over. "Yes, I trust him with Milly's life."

Thom nodded for a long few moments as they watched suburban mothers taking their children about their day. "Good enough." He said at last. "So what are they doing to her?"

"I don't know."

"Back to the bullshit," Thom said too quietly.

"There are so many different ones…"

"But there are commonalities, surely." It was Thom's turn to look over, his to watch the shoppers. "Are they raping her?"

"Not exactly;" it was a fine hair to split but the courts usually did.

"But she'll take it that way?"

Knowing Milly, how she was, how they were together. Spencer nodded. "She'll take it that way."

"They beating her?"

"Probably."

"They feeding her? Giving her a place to sleep?"

"More or less."

"I know they're saying things she don't want to hear." Thom's eyes were shimmering slightly. "We're going to have a job on our hands when she gets back."

"Yeah, we are."

"So how do we prep for it? You remembered what the people at the house said about prior planning."

"I'm working on that."

"Good. You're the expert here; I'm just a god damned engineer. I'll go put her bed together."

"That's probably a start."

"Yeah, just. I'm scared out of my mind you know. All this and high school."

"At least you're not twelve."

"One thing. Come on." Thom started sliding out of the car. "Let's go get breakfast."


	34. Part 5: Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

**North Stafford High School  
Stafford VA  
11/18/05**

**Mrs. Cardenas**

The last thing Felecia Cardenas expected when she got into work that morning was for Mr. Nichols to call her room and tell her that they had another one.

She stepped into the school office and found two men waiting. One was clearly a parent, older, good looking, wore a suit jacket over his polo like it was as comfortable as a sweatshirt. Given that the FBI was just up the road she pegged him for an agent. The boy with him was almost too old to be his son, jeans and a white T, carefully mussed hair, and a smirk of an attitude. She came in to the middle of the conversation. "I know you're still upset…" The older man was saying.

"Oh you do not know that." The younger man said in a much more pronounced southern drawl.

"…because you're not in control of your accent, which tells me that all of your energy is going toward controlling your emotions. And that is understandable, but can you at least attempt to show some respect?"

"I respect them. I respect them just fine. I just think this whole thing is a stupid waste of time, time I could be spending ether figuring out how to help Milly or working on _Curiosity_. The launch vehicle is giving everyone fits."

The older man cracked a smile. "What, you can't multitask?"

The young man chuckled at that. "Oh you are funny. You are very funny indeed."

Just then Mr. Nichols flagged her into his office. "What's going on?" She asked.

"New student, we don't have his transcript so Dan had him placement test this morning. Look at these scores!"

Mrs. Cardenas had a look. Not only had the new student, the young man out there placed into the Gifted program, he'd placed right out of it. "Why isn't this kid in college?"

"I don't know. I've been in a budget meeting all morning; I haven't had a chance to talk to him or his father yet."

"All right."

She listened as Mr. Nichols went to the door and invited Mr. Hotchner and his son Thomas into the meeting. "Why don't you let me do the talking?" Mr. Hotchner said to Thom.

"In that case I'm going to go find the restroom." Thom replied. "Excuse me." He said politely to the other adults, and moved away.

"Mr. Hotchner." There were introductions all around. "Your son Thomas is a remarkable young man. New to the area?"

"No, my wife and I have lived here for a while now. I'm with the FBI down at Quantico. And actually his last name is Hartmann and he's not my son. Thom is a ward of the court; my wife and I are only his guardians." Mr. Hotchner passed over the files he was carrying with the relevant information.

"Ah, how did you end up as his guardian; through the foster parent program?"

"Not exactly; until last week Thom was living in California. He lost a parental figure in a car accident and now his sister is missing in what we're calling a custody kidnapping. His only remaining relatives are a younger brother and an older brother who's on my team. Given the traveling we do the courts wouldn't approve him as a guardian so my wife and I decided to do him a favor since she's a stay-at-home-mom."

"You have other children at home?"

"One. He's not old enough for school yet."

"You said a younger brother?"

"He's starting at St. Alban's, on the usual track. Given that Thom already has a position at George Washington in the fall we weren't going to bother enrolling him but according to Virginia State Law all children in the care of the state must be enrolled in high school within 72 hours of their arrival. I spoke with his social worker; they will not allow college enrollment, not enough supervision."

"Oh, that's too bad." Mrs. Cardenas sighed. "It's a shame to hold a student back like that."

"Well it's only for a few months. He turns eighteen in April and, to be honest, I fully expect him to drop-out at that point. I know you have a robotics team, which I'm certain he'll join, and probably soccer as well, which will hopefully give him a reason to actually show up during the day. I don't know what to do with him for academics, honestly. Right now we're mostly hoping he'll stay out of trouble."

"You think there's going to be an issue?" Mr. Nichols asked.

"Given everything that's happened and that he's a little…different from the norm I am concerned about fighting."

* * *

**Joey**

Joey Grossman hated high school and everything about it, which was annoying because he loved to learn.

Most of the time he did his level best to avoid the bathrooms, trying not to drink during the day and then making up for it in the safety of his own home after school. But for some reason his bladder just did not want to cooperate today. Thankfully he was on his way out when the FCA crew found him. There were four of them and they were a lot bigger "Hey Joey." Matt Matruka sneered. "So how'd you do on Matheny's test this morning?"

"Lousy! I did…I did lousy." Joey swallowed and tried not to shake. It was like being surrounded by predators, and he was about to get eaten. "I…I threw it, just like…just like you said."

"You sure about that Joey?" Matt asked.

"Yeah. Yeah swear." Joey watched as a couple of kids came in, saw what was happening, and went right back out again. "Can I…can I…?"

"I noticed you were still wearing that beanie of yours on your way into school this morning." No, Matt was not letting him pass. "Guess you still haven't accepted the Lord into your heart."

Crap. "I'm…I'm still thinking…"

"What's there to think about? Salvation is the greatest gift, even for a little Christ-killer like you, isn't it?"

The sound of a flush distracted all of them. There was some new kid heading over to the sink to wash his hands. He was as tall as Matt, and muscular, if not as much. But there was something about him, like a presence or something. "Hey there," he said with a real southern drawl.

"Who the hell are you?" Matt asked.

"Name's Thom Hartmann. Just transferring in." The newcomer smiled a little. "I know, middle of my senior year; sucks to be me."

The pack has turned away from Joey to confront the new kid, but they were still between him and the door. "Welcome to North Stafford High," Matt said, almost sincerely. "You play?"

"Football?" The pack nodded. "Nooo, sorry, soccer's my game."

"Yeah? That's not going to start up until the spring. Still, I'm sure Coach Bressler will be happy to have another varsity player."

"Bressler huh? I'll be sure to go talk to him today." The new kid, Thom, nodded in Joey's direction, which made his nuts want to crawl up into his body and stay, he looked so calmly pissed. "Who's this? He looks too young to be in high school."

"Oh yeah. This is Joey. Joey Grossman. This little kike is the biggest pain in the ass in the school."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. See, Joey here is all of twelve and he's a senior."

"Whoa." Thom nodded, seemingly impressed.

"Yeah. He's even been accepted to college already. Tell him where you're going next year Joey."

"C…CalTech." Joey stammered out. He wished he was there right now. If only he could transport himself or something.

"As you might guess Joey here has a habit of fucking up the grading curves for the rest of us, making it that much harder to get the kind of grades in the kind of classes you need to score an academic scholarship, so for that reason, among others, we have to keep him in line."

Thom nodded. "I can see that." Just then the bell rang. "I need to get back to the office, finish getting registered. Nice to meet you all."

"Yeah, nice meeting you, man." They were shaking hands, Matt and the new kid, giving Joey the opportunity to slip out at last.

Great, just what he needed, another tormentor.

* * *

**Mrs. Cardenas**

Just as they were starting to discuss Thom's counseling schedule, which would mostly take place off campus given that they didn't have the resources he needed, there was a tap on the door. Thom came in to polite introductions all around. "You have a kid here named Joey Grossman?'

"Yes!" Mrs. Cardenas beamed. "He is one of the stars of our program. He's twelve years old and he's a senior, can you believe it?" She asked Mr. Hotchner, who for some reason almost winced. "He's already been accepted to CalTech next year."

"Why don't we make it easy and you just put me in all of his classes, please." Thom said. "And can you give me a locker by his too. I'd appreciate that."

"Well, all right." Now why was Mr. Hotchner groaning?

As they were leaving Hotch turned to Thom, but the younger man anticipated him. "I know. I know. I swear on Granddaddy Hart's grave I will not throw the first punch."

Hotch sighed. "That's what I'm afraid of."


	35. Part 5: Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford VA  
11/20/05**

**Spencer**

The first Sunday after Milly was taken Spencer and Thom ran into a bit of a snag. Well, not exactly a snag, more of a full on rebellion. "I'm not going to church." Stephen announced once they were in the car.

Crap.

"What do you mean you don't want to go to church?" Thom asked his accent still in full force. "Every Sunday we go to church and we go to brunch, everyone who can get there. That's the way we've always done things."

"That's what your father wanted." Spencer pointed out.

"That's just because it reminded him of England." Stephen pointed out. "If Dad knew church people were going to take Milly he would have told them and God to fuck off years ago,"

"Hey! Language!" Thom replied. He looked over at Spencer. "Quid facimus?"

"Ecclesia haec alia dicite ei." Spencer replied. "These are different church people. We're going to the Episcopal Church, most of the homes we're looking into a run by Independent Fundamental Baptist churches." Which was unfair to the vast majority of Baptists in this country, but their cherished independence made them a haven for predators. No oversight to mark them and keep them away.

"So? It's the same God."

Spencer looked over at Thom. "Nihil est enim nos ei Dei?"

"Cur et ipse dabit veniens ad ecclesiam." Thom replied.

"Good point." Spencer put the car into gear. "Let's just go get something to eat. If there is a God I'm sure He'll understand that it's been a rough couple of weeks."

"Amen, Brother Bear."

Spencer smiled. "Five years and I finally get a nickname."

* * *

**Mike's 610 Diner  
513 Garrisonville Rd  
Stafford, VA**

"Okay, so it's not the Langham." Spencer said as the waitress left. "It's supposed to have the best breakfast in the area."

"What matters is that we're all here." Thom pointed out. "Not what we're eating or where we're eating it."

"What do you think Milly's having for breakfast this morning?" Stephen asked. "I mean, it's her first Sunday without us."

Spencer sighed. The problem was that he had a pretty good idea of what went on in those places, and he really didn't want to _tell_ them. It was bad enough that _he_ had to think about it.

"Jesus, Spence." It must have shown on his face, because Thom looked away.

"Okay. Okay, we _cannot_ keep doing this." Spencer said at last. "If we keep trying to figure out what she's doing minute by minute our own lives are going to fall apart, all right. Right now she's coming back to _nothing_, the only thing she has is us and her inheritance, and that's not a great help just sitting there. If we let our lives fall apart while we're worrying about her then she's going to feel like she needs to get our lives straight, like she _owes_ us, when she should be worrying about getting herself healthy. So that's the first thing, we can't fall apart. We have to stay strong for her, and that means carrying our own…crap."

"So we shouldn't even think about her?" Stephen asked, clearly not happy with this.

"No, I'm saying we shouldn't obsess over it every minute of the day. You have to go to school and I have to go to work and Thom, you have to…" Aw hell, what did Thom have to do all day?

"I have a prefrosh to look after and my JPL work to keep up." Thom replied. "You have a good point, brother bear, but we can't not obsess over it either."

"Yeah, I know that. It's just…I've been thinking about it a lot and I've come up with a…a way to divide our time and labor to keep up our own lives and still do what we can to help find her and help her when she gets here." He had their full attention, thankfully, neither was arguing yet. "First off, during the week, Monday through Friday, our focus needs to be on our own stuff, work, school, whatever. That way when she gets here at least we have lives to work with, we're not entirely empty. But…" They were about to object. "…that doesn't mean we don't do anything during the week. It just means that we work on our own lives full time and Milly's…care plan part time. I think she'd want it that way."

"She would." Thom agreed.

"Now I know…I know this is going to be hard…" Spencer took a deep breath. "…but I want you to let me worry about what's happening to her right now."

"And why should you be the only one to carry that?" Thom asked.

"Because I've spent the past year learning _how_," Spencer replied. "That's what we have to do at the BAU, we have to spend all day reading horror story after horror story and insulate ourselves to keep from going insane with it. And before you object I'm not going to do it alone, I know I can get input and help from my team, at least some of the time. Let us…process the bad stuff before I…bring it home."

"All right, fair enough," Thom replied, "so long as you're not doing it alone. That's too much to carry, for any man."

"No. The team will help me carry it. That's what we do." Yeah, like he was going to ask them.

"So what am I doing?"

"Figuring out how to fix it. Treatment plans, therapeutic options, best clinics in the area, things to watch for, whatever it takes. You have more control over your time that Stephen and I, even with being stuck in the high school building all day, and I know you won't have a problem getting around the school firewall."

"Well it won't be my first time as a research drone." Thom replied. "You're on."

"What am I doing?" Stephen asked.

"Helping us rebuild her physical world." Spencer replied. "She lost everything; even what she had at the House has been taken into evidence. But Thom and I were never in her room, we never…saw her laundry pile or…what she kept in her bathroom. In all of the literature it says one of the first things you need to recover from something like this is a safe place to be. I think she'd feel more safe and comfortable with familiar things around her. I mean…" He took a deep breath, and without realizing it got that hollow look again. "She doesn't even have a toothbrush or any underwear. So your job is going to be to remember; or if you can't, figure out a new option."

"That shouldn't be that hard." Stephen told him

"And if we send you to school with a stack of decorating magazines and tell you to go through them when your homework is done and figure out what she'd like?" Thom asked. "What are you going to do if the other boys laugh?"

"Tell them to piss off, it's for my sister." Stephen replied

"Where did you pick up this language?" Spencer asked.

"Mom."

"Ugh." Spencer took a deep breath and regrouped. "OK, so that's during the week. I'm usually in the City on Fridays so Stevie…"

"Stephen."

"…_Stephen_ I'll meet you after school and we'll take the train out here. Thom can pick us up at the station. Hotch already said I could crash on the basement couch a couple of nights a week." Which was flat out weird but he'd get used to it. Thankfully their entire family fit in the basement, so they could easily stay out of Haley's hair. "I think we should spend Saturdays helping Hotch and Mrs. Hotch with whatever they need done. They've been hugely generous with us, I think we ought to give back, even if it's just getting groceries so Mrs. Hotch doesn't have to take Jack out, or shoveling the snow, or whatever." There was no way Spencer could call them 'Aaron' and 'Haley', and calling Hotch 'Hotch' offended Thom's southern sense of propriety. 'Mr. Hotch" seemed to fit for both Thom and Stephen and from that 'Mrs. Hotch' came naturally, and seemed to leave Haley utterly tickled.

"I can get with that." Thom said. "That'll barely start repaying what they've done for us."

"Agreed. " Stephen said.

"Then Sunday's we'll come here for breakfast. I'll e-mail the CARD team on Friday to get an update, which they should have for me before we get here, and we'll stay out of their way the rest of the time unless they ask for help. That's the best way to help them, I promise."

"So what did they say this week?" Thom asked.

"They interviewed everyone in Patricia Gault's church. If anyone knew where their pastor referred wayward girls they're not telling. But they also raided four of those homes across the country. They solved six custody kidnapping cases, and in every case the local DCFS closed them down, arrested the operators and took the girls into custody for treatment." Spencer smiled, just a little. "We helped sixty-one girls get out and get help. I think Milly would be proud of that."

"She would." Stephen agreed.

"Amen." Thom replied.

"So on Sunday mornings I'll report, and we won't bother them the rest of the week. After breakfast we'll go do what we need to do for Milly." Spencer continued. "It's not just stuff, its places and...intangible stuff too. She's never been to DC, she doesn't know her way around, or, you know, libraries, transit…"

"All the stuff you need to settle into a place." Thom nodded, "As well as finding the stuff to make her comfortable. I'm with you. So during the week we focus on our day jobs and do our research in our spare time, Saturdays we give to the Hotches as a thank you and Sunday is Milly's day. I'm good with it."

"So am I." Stephen agreed.

"Then on Sundays either you or I can head back on the train or if we're in the city Thom, you can drop us off and head back yourself, if you're comfortable with it."

"And how am I doing that?" Thom asked.

"The same way you're getting back and forth to school." Spencer pulled out his car keys and placed them on the table. "It sits in a garage during the week, and Volvos are reliable and easy on gas, even in the snow. Just don't trash my mother's car."

Thom looked at the ring of keys like it was a spider about to bite him. "I was just going to take the bus. You sure about this?"

"You mean the torture chamber on wheels? Use the car. I booked us a few hours on the slick track over at the Academy next week-end so you can practice driving on ice."

"Well." Thom picked up the ring and pocketed it, "Thank you kindly brother bear."

"Where is that coming from, anyway?"

"I don't know. Now that you've taken over the family it seems to fit." The waitress came, and Thom waited until she left. "Now speaking of things to make a girl feel safe, we might as well start with underwear. I know I wouldn't feel safe without my skivvies on."

"Wait, I have to go buy my sister _underwear_?" Stephen looked up from his pancakes. "Ew!"

"Someone has to." Spencer told him. "Mr. Douran gave me a card with a generous limit; he just wants us to send him all the receipts. But I don't know what kind she wears, so you have to come help us pick it out."

"Ew!"

Thom was chuckling. "When she hears about this she is not going to stop laughing."


	36. Part 5: Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

**North Stafford High School  
Stafford VA  
11/21/05**

**Joey**

Another Monday, another trip to the horror show. Thankfully it was a short week.

Joey was just putting his books in his locker when someone stopped right next to him and opened the locker above and to the left of his. Joey looked up and found the new kid smiling down at him. "'Morning prefrosh," he said in that southern accent of his. "Mind your head."

Prefrosh. Great, a brand new insult.

Joey didn't say anything, even though he did mind his head. He just stashed his bags and headed off to homeroom. Of course, once he was settled in his seat he saw that the new kid had come in behind him and was talking to the teacher. The bell rang and everyone more or less settled. "Everyone! Everyone!" The teacher was trying, why everyone had to be so rude and not listen he never did understand. "Everyone, this is Thom. He's new to the area and new to our school, so everyone make him feel welcome." Yeah, right, good luck with that. If the new kid hadn't clearly already hit his adult height and weight he'd have the shit kicked out of him before lunch. As it was, they were probably just checking him out first.

And then, of course, the new kid came over and sat right next to him.

And then he sat next to him in IB L-Lit

And then he sat next to him in AP US History.

And then he sat next to him in AP Calculus.

"Are you following me?" Joey hissed at him before class started.

The new kid flashed him a charming smile. "Naw prefrosh, we're just on the same schedule."

Up until now the new kid hadn't answered any questions in class. The two teachers they'd had had let him off easy today so he could catch up with the class. But Mrs. Allen never gave anyone an easy time of it. "Thom, can you come up and answer this one?" She gestured to the overhead.

The new kid stood up slowly, as if a little unsure. But when he got up there he confidently wrote: =3x1/3+3In|x1/3-1|+C

"Um, you need to show your work." Mrs. Allen said.

"I did." The new kid replied.

"I mean you need to show the steps you took to get there."

"I did." He replied again with a gentle smile. Then the bell rang and everyone was moving.

Joey was shocked. Either the new kid had known the answer somehow and memorized it or else... "How did you do that?" Joey asked. Because nobody just got solutions like that but him. Nobody. Not ever.

"Is it time for lunch yet?" The new kid replied.

Jesus he was creepy.

Joey hurried off to the lunchroom. Once through, and with no sign of the new kid, he went to sit with his crew at the back table, Bernie, Kim and Chuck. The other nerds. The other geeks. The other weirdos. "Have you guys seen the new kid yet?" He asked them.

"We have a new kid?" Bernie asked.

"Yeah, he…"

"This seat taken?" came the now familiar drawl.

As they looked up the new kid sat down across from Joey. He was a foot taller than the tallest kid at the table, and built like an athlete, which they were so very not, and had a kind of quiet confidence that had everyone whispering. Joey was still impressed by the guy's muscles, like serious showing _muscles_ in his arms and under his t-shirt.

And he was sitting at _their_ table.

"Name's Thom; pleasure to meet you all," he drawled. Then he had a look at his tray. "Is this supposed to be food?"

"So they tell us." Kim said.

"Hey." Said a light, female voice. They looked up to see Kelly Miller, easily one of the prettiest cheerleaders, standing at their table. _Their_ table. "You're new." She said to Thom.

"Yes, that I am." He replied.

"Matt wanted me to bring these over." She handed him a couple of pamphlets. "He said he hopes you come to the meeting this afternoon."

She was preening and posing, clearly trying to catch his eye. But he was as coolly polite as he had been to the teachers all morning. "Well, I'll have to take a look at them and consider it. But thank him kindly for me, for the invitation."

"I will." She cooed before moving away.

"Man, she was totally in to you!" Chuck said.

"Yeah, I know." Thom was eating as he took a look over the pamphlets, "Fellowship of Christian Athletes?"

"Yeah," Joey replied. "Only it's not all Christian athletes, it's only the ones who go to Matt's Dad's church. They don't think anyone else is a real Christian."

But Thom was looking over the other pamphlet, with a set jaw and anger in his eyes. "Because that's what Samuel Stoddard preaches." He said, his mildness replaced with something cold. "I'm surprised Matt isn't being homeschooled."

"The rest of his family is." Bernie told him. "His Dad sent him here to preach to us."

"Preach?"

The loudspeaker whined to life. They looked over to see Matt and his crew and some cheerleaders standing on the small stage at the front of the room. "It's time for the Fellowship of Christian Athletics daily bible study." Matt said into the mike. "Anyone who does not want to participate should leave now."

"I thought this sort of thing was illegal in the public schools." Thom said.

"It's legal if the students are putting it on." Kim replied. "And it's not mandatory if you stay."

"Let us pray." Matt said, and he began leading the group with him in prayer.

"But if you don't stay then Matt and his crew find you and beat the crap out of you." Bernie added.

"Really?"

As the prayer droned on Joey and the others watched in astonishment as Thom gracefully unfolded himself from the table. He slowly walked over to the tray return station and dropped his tray on the stack with a loud WHAP, interrupting the prayer and getting all eyes on him. Then as he and Matt locked eyes he very deliberately tossed the pamphlets into the trash and slowly walked out.

Joey was shocked. They were all shocked.

Bernie leaned over and whispered. "Matt and his crew are going to kill that kid!"

Joey looked at them all, suddenly scared for someone he didn't even know. Then, as the prayer resumed he swallowed hard and very, very quietly scuttled out.

He found the new kid, Thom, sitting on the steps right outside the cafeteria. "Tell me something prefrosh." He said, that light, polite attitude back. "Do you think that counted as throwing the first punch?"

That's it. He was done. "Okay, who the fuck are you? And what the fuck is a prefrosh anyway?"

Thom unfolded himself, got up and nodded for Joey to follow. "Can you keep a secret?" He asked.

"Yeah," Joey replied. "Why?"

"Because my guardian and I decided to keep our mouths shut so as not to make the teaching staff around here feel poorly over their lack of education." Thom was pulling out his wallet as they walked. "Now what I am is your big brother, and since you haven't formally checked in to your House yet and so are not yet a freshman, you are prefrosh." He handed Joey some kind of card and smiled.

Joey stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. There was no way he was seeing what he was seeing. Because what he was seeing was a key card to Galois House at CalTech and it had been issued to one Doctor… Joey swallowed hard, looked up at Thom and for the first time saw what he could someday become. "Whoa."

"Yeah," Thom smiled and took his card back. "Let me tell you prefrosh, when you get there you are going to have the time of your life."

All of a sudden Joey could believe that. "What are you doing here?"

Thom sighed, and for a moment looked hurt. "It's a long story, and the word 'custody' is involved. Let's leave it there."

That Joey utterly understood, had ever since his parent's divorce some years back, "Yeah, but why high school? I mean, you already have a doctorate."

"Shhh. Not eighteen. The state says I have to be looked after during the day."

"What's your doctorate in?"

"Mechatronics." Joey's heart started beating triple time. And Thom must have known it because he slowly smiled. "Yeah, now where is your robotics lab?"


	37. Part 5: Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

**North Stafford High School  
Stafford VA  
11/22/05**

**Joey**

The next day Joey couldn't decide if he was thrilled to go to school or terrified.

After lunch on that first day he and Thom, or "Doc" as he was now being called by the robotics team, had headed into the robotics lab. They had shown him what they had, which wasn't much, and started knocking around ideas, many of which came straight from the Jet Propulsion Lab's design board, most of which Doc had on his laptop. Joey had always wondered what the term 'ringer' meant. Now he knew.

After that period they had independent study. While Joey tackled his homework Doc looked to be working on a completely different project. "You're not doing homework?" He'd whispered.

"No, I've got other stuff to do with my time."

"You know it's a quarter of your grade, right?"

Doc had kind of smirked over at him. "If I fail will it keep me out of college?"

Right. "What are you doing?"

"Compiling a database of psychiatrists and therapists in the DC metro area, taking into account specialties, training, papers they've written, gender, that kind of thing."

"Why?'

Doc looked over. "Don't you have homework to do?"

The last period was PE. Doc stuck close in the locker room, but only kept an eye on him from a distance on the field. He was trying out for the soccer team, he said, and so went to their training while Joey ran laps and did conditioning exercises. Not a clue if Doc was any good or not, but the other kids seemed to accept him, which probably meant that he wasn't bad.

After PE he got dressed right off. And so did Doc. "Hey!" Coach yelled at them, "Showers!"

"I…I have a waiver." Joey stammered out. His mother had insisted, saying he was too young to be getting naked with the bigger boys.

"Same here," Thom told the Coach, handing him a copy of the slip getting him out of them. "Don't worry; I'm going to go take one at home."

Thankfully Matt and his crew weren't waiting in the parking lot. "So how are you getting home prefrosh?" Doc asked.

"The bus;" that's where they would find him, probably.

"Want a ride in the Dianamobile?"

"Sure!" Anything to avoid the bus. Even… "Does this thing even run?" That was the oldest and ugliest car in the lot by far.

"Yeah, like a top. Unfortunately." Joey climbed in, this thing was wild. "It belongs to my partner; he's letting me borrow it for the duration."

"It's kind of a death trap." Lots of metal and maybe sharp edges and the seatbelts didn't match.

"It's supposed to be one of the safest cars ever made."

The engine purred to life and the local classical station came on. "Can I change it?" Joey asked.

"Not without a pair of pliers and maybe some hoodoo. Hang on."

They made it home in one piece. The next morning the Dianamobile pulled up at the bus stop. "Get in prefrosh." Thom called out to him.

The car smelled like the bag from the Wawa station. "Don't you eat breakfast at home?"

"No, I'm trying to stay out of people's way during the week."

Now they were at school and Joey couldn't decide if he was thrilled that he had a guardian angel looking over him or terrified that his new friend was going to bite it bad and soon. It was a confusion that was not helped by the tracts and pamphlets that had been stuffed into every possible crack in Thom's locker. "Well chalk that tree up to Stoddard." Thom said mildly as he pulled them all out and pitched them in the nearest can without a look.

Then it was homeroom, and Doc was kind of quietly reading the student body handbook while they watched the in-the-classroom news thing. "They need all this for what we did in one sentence." He chuckled.

"You mean the CalTech Honor Code?" Joey could just imagine living in a place where the people were so together that was all that was needed.

But Thom didn't answer. When Joey looked over he found his friend looking at the TV, a dark, complicated look on his face. Then, without a word, he got up and walked out.

Thankfully they were right by the back door and the teacher didn't see. Joey watched the report for a moment while he gathered his things. "…from her home in the Pasadena area." The screen showed a picture of a pretty, young redhead. "Because Dr. Bennett is engaged to an FBI agent, officials are not discounting an act of terrorism. Any individuals with any information are encouraged to call…."

Joey didn't stick around to hear the rest of it. He slipped out, only to find Thom sitting with his back against the lockers, looking down at nothing. "The report said she's from Pasadena. That's where CalTech is." Joey said. "Do you know her?"

For a moment Thom's face screwed up like he was in the worst pain. But when he answered it was as calm and mild as ever. "Yeah, she's one of us. Galois House. She gave me this." He held up his hand, showing the silver band on his finger.

"The report said she's engaged to an FBI agent."

"Yeah, she is. He's one of us too. I'm driving his car."

"How long has she been missing?"

"Too dammed long," Thom sighed. "It's complicated prefrosh, and your momma wouldn't like us talking about it. Today's a short day, isn't it, because of the holiday? So all we have is independent study this morning?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Think Mrs. Cardenas would let us skip out earlier to go to the library?"

"Probably."

"Good. Let's go ask her." Thom got up and dusted off. As they headed for the IS room he pulled out a cell phone. "Hey, Mr. Hotch, am I catching you at a bad time?" Pause. "Yeah, I'm sorry to bother you at work but I need something parental…."

* * *

**Wawa Food Market  
105 Garrisonville Road  
Stafford, VA**

After they got permission from Mrs. Cardenas to leave school early they had stopped at the office where Joey's Mom worked. Thom was clearly the kind of kid all adults trusted at first glance, and Ms. Grossman was no exception. Still, she took the time to call Agent Hotchner and make sure Thom was safe and trustworthy. "Just be home by supper." She said after she got off the phone. "Have fun at the library."

Once outside Joey asked. "He sounded too old for Galois House."

"He is. That's Spence's boss. He's helping us out until we get Milly home. I'm crashing in his basement."

"Oh." Eventually that would make sense.

From there Thom drove here, a gas station and kind of halfway decent fast food kind of place. They filled up the car first, and as it was filling Thom jotted some notes down on a small notepad. Then they parked. "Here," he said, handing Joey the note and three twenties. "Pay for the gas, get this, whatever you want to eat today, and a copy of every map they have in there. I want to cover the area." The note was his lunch order.

"Where are you going?" Joey asked.

"The lav." He pulled a bag out of the trunk and headed off. "Make sure you put the coffee in the holder up front, and keep the water handy."

Fifteen minutes later Joey was settling the last of the chow into the back seat when Thom came back. For the first few moments Joey didn't even recognize him. He'd changed from jeans, a t-shirt and Chuck Taylors to dress pants, shoes, a shirt and a sweater vest, with a tie hanging loose around his neck. He'd even combed his hair differently. He carefully placed a tweed jacket in the back so it wouldn't wrinkle and then stepped around to re-open the trunk. "Got the maps?" He asked.

"Yeah," Joey was flummoxed. "You look, like, way older. I thought we were going to the library."

"We are; the one at Georgetown Medical. Now tell me how to get on the highway from here, you're navigating." His cell phone chirrped an incoming text. "Check that." He said to Joey.

Joey fished the cell phone out of the cup holder. "It's from an S. Reid. It says 'going to TX. Don't watch the news.'"


	38. Part 5: Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

**Fruit orchard  
Somewhere in West Texas  
11/22/05**

**Spencer**

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Elle replied. "I'm fine Dad."

Gideon stopped and turned back. "Elle?'

"Yeah."

"Don't ever call me dad again." He walked off.

"How do you think he'd feel about Mom?" Elle asked.

"Let me know when you're going to do that." Spencer replied. "So I can, uh, run."

All of a sudden Elle was nervous. "Um Reid, you probably saved my life in there…."

"Probably? I totally saved your life." Spencer chuckled. "And I'm…I'm pretty certain that it was caught on tape."

"You know what you said in there, to Bryer, that…you know what it's like?"

"The guy was a delusional psychotic; I was playing into his fantasy." I cannot do this, Spencer thought. He got up, patting Elle on the knee. "Go to the hospital." He said reassuringly. "I'll…I'll see you there." He needed to talk to someone, and unfortunately that someone was not Elle.

Spencer wended his way around the parked cars and into the orchard until he found a private spot where he could pull out his phone. "Garcia?"

"Hey, very brave junior g-man." She had a knack of sounding just that kind of caring. And of getting right to the point. "How are you holding up?"

"Not…not well." He finally admitted. "First off, Milly and Thom make disarming someone look way too easy."

"Did you ever train with them?"

"No. I may have to rectify that." Spencer sighed. "Were you watching?"

"You know I was. I'm always watching."

"You know how I was able to do that? Because my mother…my mother is a paranoid schizophrenic and I used to talk her down like that. I'd get her to reject he bad voices and listen to the good ones."

"Well, that was good…"

"Did you know that schizophrenia is genetic? It…it usually passes down to male children, who have anywhere from a thirteen to a forty percent chance depending on if one of my grandparents had it too? They're all gone and Mom doesn't remember so I have no way of knowing."

"Oh sweetie…"

His voice was starting to thicken with emotion. "If I do have it I could start manifesting symptoms as young as twenty-five. I could _be_ Bryer in ten years. Morgan asked me once why I left CalTech when we were doing such amazing work there. I left because the Rover project was too slow for me, I didn't have time to see it through. I wanted to do as much good as I could with the gifts I have in the time I had. And I didn't see any reason to…to torment myself by staying that close to Thom and Milly when they were too young."

"Spencer…"

He could feel the tears starting to roll down his cheeks. "What if that was a mistake Garcia? What if I…I wasted the only time I'd ever have with Milly, going across country to be someone else's hero? What if she comes back and she finds me like Bryer?" He wiped at the tears but they wouldn't stop. "What if that's the only way I ever see her again, as a hallucination as my mind falls apart?"

"Spencer, stop." Garcia was quiet and gentle and implacable. "You cannot think this way, all right. You cannot second guess yourself. There is no way you could have known this would happen. Tell me, did Milly know about your Mom, and all of that?"

"Yeah."

"Was she good with your decision to move to DC?"

"She was. She…she always said she was proud of me."

"Then that's all you need to know. It was as much her decision as yours, okay. All you can do is keep moving forward and know, really know, that you made the best decision based on what you knew at the time, all right?"

It was true. They had discussed it, they had all agreed, he wasn't just some selfish monster who wanted to be a hero. He was finally able to sniff back the tears and make them stop, at least for now, "Yeah, all right."

"Now I know, deep in my heart that she is going to come home and she is going to recover from this. And they are going to figure out a test and they are going to test you and they're going to find out that you're fine. And then you and your tribe are going to settle down and make beautiful babies and Auntie Garcia is going to come over and spoil them rotten, all right? Now you just focus on that future and let the past be the past, okay."

"Right." He could do this. Maybe he could do this. "You really are amazing, you know that?"

Garcia purred. "Yes, I know."

* * *

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford VA  
11/23/05**

**Hotch**

By the time they had come home from Texas it had been exceedingly late. Even though Reid performed stunningly well in the field, talking down a psychotic Unsub and getting everyone out in relatively one piece, it was clear that he was still processing on the plane. A heads up from Garcia explained the situation, which was why he'd told Reid not to head back to the city. His go-bag should hold him through the long holiday, and the couch in the basement pulled out into an impressively comfortable bed.

Now it was morning and he awoke to the sucking-slurping sound of Jack having his breakfast. He rolled over and sure enough Haley was resting against a pile of pillows, nursing. "Good morning." He said quietly.

"Good morning."

There was the distinct smell of bacon in the air. "So how is life with teenagers in the house?"

"I'm not sure." Haley replied honestly. "So far Thom's been hiding out in the basement when you're not here. I think he's living off take-out and TV dinners to stay out of our way." The basement had a wet bar with a small fridge and microwave, so this was plausible. "But they want Stephen to have regular meals."

"He's younger and not used to being on his own. They probably want the stability for him. But Thom could be on his own at this point." Hotch decided that being able to laze about in bed for a few and watch his wife and son was pretty much heaven.

"Well Thom and I have been having coffee every morning to check in. Yesterday afternoon he picked up Stephen in the city, and they came home and did all their laundry and went out and picked up everything we'll need for Thanksgiving. Now today they're planning on raking and bagging the leaves, mowing the yard, cleaning out the gutters, cleaning the house…"

Hotch chuckled. "Okay, Reid is not taking care of my honey-do list for me."

"He's planning to. They said they want to help out to say thank you for all the trouble we're going through." Haley laughed gently. "Thom said Spencer really wanted to tell you to go play golf today but he wasn't sure how to say it to his boss."

"I'll take it under advisement. So it's been all clear sailing?"

"Not entirely. Yesterday Thom took his new friend Joey to the library…"

"Joey Grossman. He's enrolled at CalTech in the fall, in the Galois program. That probably makes him a little brother."

"But they were gone _five_ hours. Who spends five hours at a library and comes back with two books?"

"Maybe they went somewhere else, explored DC."

Haley shook her head. "He keeps insisting they just went to the library. They got gas and lunch at the Wawa station, went to the library, and then he picked Stephen up, dropped Joey off and came home. This is not going to work if they're going to lie to us, Aaron."

Aaron considered this. "I don't think it's lying."

"Then what is it?"

"At CalTech they were given a great deal of personal freedom to pursue research wherever it led in exchange for behaving relatively conservatively and maturely for college students."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I think the answer is downstairs."

Eventually they had to get up, Jack was done and breakfast smelled ready. Sure enough they came downstairs to find Stephen setting the table, Thom scrambling eggs and Spencer in a t-shirt and glasses, sitting with coffee and a very old, extremely thick book, absorbing away. "Is he…" Haley asked.

"Yes, he always reads like that." That was not remarkable. Hotch went for coffee. "Good morning. So you and Joey went to the library yesterday?"

"'Morning. Yes, Sir." Thom answered easily and honestly.

The devil is always in the details, Hotch thought, I learned that from Reid, "Which library?"

"Johns Hopkins Medical Archives."

"Johns Hopkins!" Haley was shocked, "In Baltimore?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"That's two hours from here!"

"One hour and fifty-eight minutes." Spencer said absently, "Depending on traffic."

"Why?" Haley asked.

"'Cause they didn't have the books we needed at Georgetown, or any of the other libraries in DC." Thom replied mildly as he put the eggs on the table. "Hey, brother bear, stop reading." He told Spencer sternly. "There are people coming to the table." Spencer obediently set the book aside.

Hotch just laughed. He had suspected that Thom and Spencer were cut from much the same cloth. Given a gold plated opportunity to drink or debauch or pursue any other vice they would turn it down flat, the Honor Code was that deeply ingrained into their systems. Even with their odd choice of living arrangement they were quite content living quiet lives devoted to research and public service. But when it came to that research, to protecting the public, all bets were off, getting into the car to drive ninety-two miles to pick up a book or taking off your vest to talk down an armed paranoid schizophrenic wasn't worth more than a moments consideration. He, on the other hand, was the boss and had to consider. But when he sat at the head of the table he absently looked at the title of the book Spencer had been reading and his objections dried up. He was never going to rein them in, he couldn't even try. He gave Haley their 'we'll discuss it later' look. "From now on if you take Joey leave a detailed itinerary, and don't take him out of the metro area."

"Yes, Sir," Thom replied easily enough. "Stevie, sit, before you get bacon on your head."

"Stephen."

"_Stephen_. Sit."

"So, what did you all do for Thanksgiving?' Haley asked as the food started going around.

"We always had dinner at the Langham," Stephen told her. "Sharon didn't like big family dinners and she didn't cook and Dad wanted to give Marta the week-end off."

"I always went with them." Thom added. "Back home Dad would take us all to Sherman's so Mom and my sisters wouldn't have to cook."

"I went home." Spencer admitted. "Mom and I would go to one of the casino buffets."

"So none of you ever had a home cooked Thanksgiving dinner before?" Haley asked.

"No, Ma'am." Thom replied. "But we've been talking about changing up traditions now that we're all in DC."

"I think this would be more like starting one." Spencer pointed out.

"Milly always wanted to do holidays at home." Stephen admitted.

"Sounds like I have kitchen slaves for the week-end." Haley said to her husband.

"Good." Hotch replied, "Because I'm going to go play golf.

* * *

.

* * *

Some dialogue taken from _Criminal Minds_ 01x09 "Derailed". No copyright infringement intended.


	39. Part 5: Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford VA  
11/24/05**

**Hotch**

In later years Hotch would consider that the most morbid Thanksgiving he had ever endured. And he was a man from an abusive home who had been through a lot of bad Thanksgivings.

The holiday proceeded in the usual, highly traditional fashion. As usual it was mostly Haley's family, her parents, her sister Jessica, the rest of the aunts and uncles and cousins. His brother Sean came as well, in order to avoid their parents. Stephen behaved about as everyone would expect of a thirteen year old boy, he watched the Macy's Parade with Haley and Jack in the morning, keeping an eye on Jack when Haley had to go into the kitchen to mind the bird, then he watched football with the uncles and male cousins in the afternoon, enduring all the usual Uncle-ish questions ("Play football?" "Like school?") and after dinner played hearts with the cousins around the coffee table. Hotch himself helped with the last minute putting things to right in the morning, and then settled in for football in the afternoon and chatting with everyone. And for once Haley got to settle down with her relatives and just visit while Jack was passed around and fought over and she gave directions for how things ought to be done.

Hotch never realized that Spencer could _cook_.

"It's just chemistry." Spencer told him. "The kitchen in the lab, you're running multiple concurrent experiments, just get your notes in order and go." And go he did, managing all the side dishes with ease, leaving Haley nothing to do but check on the sacred bird from time to time and taste things to adjust seasonings since Spencer tended to follow recipes with a chemist's precision. Thom went in as his assistant, applying his engineering skills and artists eye to presenting platters of food for the table. Between the two of them Haley barely had to do anything in the kitchen that year. Granted some of her older relatives murmured about how "young men like _that_ were always good in the kitchen", but they managed to keep that sort of talk down to a minimum.

The problem was that Hotch was a profiler. And profilers notice things.

At one point he'd gone into the kitchen to get more ice, and he found the two young men in the pantry. Spencer had Thom pinned up against the wall and was whispering furiously in his ear. Spencer looked upset and angry and Thom just looked to be hurting badly, the kind of pain that kept him trying to twist away from the words. After a moment Spencer packed off. "Right?"

"Yeah." Thom straightened his hair and his composure. "Yeah, I know."

"Good?"

"Yeah."

They both wore pleasant if slightly shy facades after that. Right up until dinner.

Stephen, at the table with the cousins, ate with the appetite expected of a thirteen year old. But a seventeen year old and a nineteen year old should not sit there and push the food around their plates, looking at each other across the table with hollow, desperate eyes. Hotch had tried very, very hard throughout this entire ordeal to treat the both of them as adults, rookies perhaps but colleagues, equals. But seeing the looks on their faces, reading their body language, he realized that sometimes even very mature young men need a poke where a parent might poke. So he used the excuse of more wine to get up and move to where he could whisper to Spencer. "Stop eating and I'll take you out on medical." When he turned back to the table with the second bottle of chardonnay both of them were finally downing dinner with a will.

After dinner the ladies at the table wanted to do dishes, given that Thom and Spencer cooked, but he got them to back off. "Let them do it, please." He said to Haley. "I'll explain later."

"All right."

* * *

Finally the holiday was over. The boys were down in the basement, if not asleep then at least quiet about it. Jack was snoring lightly in his crib. And he and Haley were in bed with their reading lights on, settle and cozy. "So what was going on with the boys today?" She asked.

"You mean other than not having Milly here?"

"Yeah. I mean, she's in a school somewhere, it can't be that bad."

"Actually most of these reform houses are very abusive. The churches that sponsor them have good intentions but the lack of oversight tends to attract the kind of Unsub who likes to prey on young women."

"They think she's being abused?"

"Yes, but…you know how I didn't tell Thom not to drive to Johns Hopkins again?"

"Yeah, I was going to ask you about that."

"Most people read a book and then they think about what they read for a time before drawing conclusions or factoring what they learned into what they already know. Gideon explained to me one time that Reid doesn't do that. He thinks about it and connects it to what he already knows _as_ he's reading it. For lack of a better term that takes a level of computational power that's a thousand times beyond the rest of us. Reid's been reading everything he can get his hands on about these houses, and I think that even while he's reading he's prioritizing her treatment needs for when we find her. Then he's passing those problems on to Thom who has the time and autonomy to research solutions."

"Okay."

"I'm familiar with the books they found. It's a two-volume report called _The Biology of Human Starvation_ by a researcher named Ancel Keys who researched the effects of and appropriate treatment for starvation for the US Government during World War II. It was called the Minnesota Study; Keys took volunteers and forced them to lose twenty-five percent of their body weight, then brought them back to health and recoded their physiological and psychological reactions along the way. It's the seminal work on the subject. I haven't seen the interview transcripts or the reports from the CARD team, but if that was the first thing the boys have tackled then I can only assume that the vast majority of these young women are coming out of these homes severely malnourished, much like the survivors of the war."

The meaning of that started cluing in. "Oh my God." Haley breathed.

Hotch nodded. "They just cooked and ate a Thanksgiving feast all the while knowing that the woman they love was going very hungry tonight."

"Why?"

"Probably to thank us."

"God." Haley just sighed as she absorbed that.

"I can't tell them not to try to find ways to make this right somehow. It's exactly the kind of thing I prepared for once. I'm just dammed glad I didn't have to do anything when you got home." He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. "If that means letting Thom drive to Baltimore then I'm letting him go."

"Well, I can't disagree with that."

The next day, while they were putting up storm windows Spencer asked if Hotch and Haley would mind them bringing in another refrigerator, if they covered the cost of the extra power. Hotch said they would make space in the garage for it, and then they did just that.


	40. Part 5: Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford VA  
11/25/05**

**Spencer**

"What are we going to do about Christmas?" Stephen asked

Spencer and Thom were up on ladders, cleaning out the gutters on the Hotchner home. From Spencer's perspective Hotch had given him an invaluable gift, the gift of knowing as much of his family that could be kept safe were being kept safe, and the gift of being able to spend time with them. The only gift he could give in return was the gift of time with his, Hotch's, family, of being able to spend every precious spare moment with his son, and not waste time with mundane chores like leaves and gutters. After all, Jack would only be an infant once, while he, Spencer, could actually have quality time with his lover and brother-in-law over… "What is that?"

"I think it was a bird." Thom replied, "Or maybe a bat. Not the biologist in the family." Whatever it was, Thom scooped it up and deposited it in a separate trash bag for decent internment in the local landfill. "That's a good question." He called down to Stephen.

"Milly always said that when we got away from Sharon we'd have a good Christmas."

"I remember that. Problem is, Milly's not here."

"She might be home by then."

"She might be." Spencer replied. "But I don't think we should plan for that. Personally I'd rather have to shift plans because she's here then be disappointed that she's not."

"Good point, brother bear."

Spencer considered a moment. "Hey Stevie…"

"Stephen."

"_Stephen_, do you have a notebook handy?"

"Sure."

"So what was important to her, about Christmas? What did she say she wanted in a real holiday?"

"She said she wanted a real tree, not a designer one. Remember, she had that ornament collection."

"Okay, so we have to create an ornament collection. Make a note. Did she ever weigh in on artificial trees? I think I found the rest of the bird."

"No."

"I don't fancy cutting down a tree just to decorate the house." Thom weighed in. "Seems wasteful of a good tree. Dump the guck in here."

"Okay Stephen, put down buy an artificial tree. That way if she's home in time we'll have something to decorate, or we can have Christmas later if she's upset about missing it."

"Got it," Stephen called up. "Remember those stocking she made, the felt ones?"

"Yeah." Those were gone now. "We can get her the kits to make a new set. She might enjoy working on them while she recuperates."

"Speaking of getting stuff," Thom said. "I know presents weren't a big thing to her, but I suggest we get what we usually do and save it for when she gets home."

"I agree."

"Me too," Stephen called up. "And we can get her the same thing Dad always got her too."

"What was that?"

"A gift card to her favorite store in London; she bought a lot of stuff for her room there."

"Do you remember the name?"

"No."

"Well that's not going to help." Thom pointed out.

"We have Garcia." Spencer replied. "She can shop for anything. What else?" He asked Stephen.

"She always watched the Christmas specials with me."

"DVDs. What else?"

"We listened to A Christmas Carol on Christmas morning."

"iTunes. Same with the music she liked. What else?"

"She always wanted to cook dinner."

"Make a binder like we did for Thanksgiving, so she has the recipes and ideas." Thom suggested.

"Yeah," Spencer agreed. "What else?"

"She always wanted snow."

"We'll be getting snow." Spencer predicted. "What else?"

"Boxing Day and the Day after Boxing Day!"

"Oh yeah." In modern Britain Boxing Day was associated with shopping and sports, mostly soccer or Mark Bennett's favorite, rugby. To make up for his spending the entire day in front of the TV watching games the day after he took his children to their favorite theme park for the day. Spencer always traveled home from Las Vegas on Boxing Day, and spent the day after with his loves eating junk food and riding rides and generally having a blast.

"Yeah, we have to do those two." Thom agreed. "Those are less about Milly and more about what Mr. Bennett would want. He'll be there, you know." He said down to Stephen, "At least in spirit."

"I know."

"I don't think I could sit and watch rugby now without screaming." Spencer admitted. "Done?" He asked Thom.

"Yeah. Down." They headed down the ladders, Stephen holding each one in turn.

"Here's what I'm thinking." Spencer said when they reached the ground. "We all agree that Milly intended for us to start new traditions when we settled here in DC, right?" The other two nodded. "But we don't know what she wanted and we can't really do anything without her. The other issue is that for all that it's not really a holiday for us without Milly it's going to be huge for the Hotchners. It's Jack's first Christmas."

"Another good point brother bear."

"And even if she is back in time I don't think she's going to be up to leading anything. So I suggest that rather than start any Christmas traditions we just collect the things we know mattered to her in the past and then spend the actual holiday celebrating Jack's First Christmas. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Then, given that all the theme parks are closed for the season..."

"Awww!" Stephen protested. "Why?"

"Snow. I suggest we spend Boxing Day at Colonial Williamsburg. Given that it's a giant historical reenactment of when the US was actually part of Britain they may actually put on a traditional Boxing Day…."

"…and Dad would have totally loved that." Stephen said.

"…and it's all historical and old." Thom added. "So you know Milly will love it."

"…and if she's back we'll take her and if not well take her when she gets back and again next year." Spencer smiled. "Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

* * *

Later that night, as Spencer was about to bed down on the sofa, he saw the light on in Milly's room.

There wasn't much in there just yet. They had a simple, unfussy white bed that they could leave with Hotch and Haley for the guest room if it wasn't needed in the future, made up with a thick feather bed and a plain, white eiderdown since they hadn't found anything she would like and Just In Case she would need a place to sleep. There was a small dresser with a selection of underthings and soft clothes she could lounge around in or run errands in, nothing exciting but at least she wouldn't be naked, and a toothbrush and comb, and a lamp they borrowed from Hotch. And that was all.

Except the lamp was on and there was Thom, sitting on the floor, his back against the bed, a sketchbook in his lap, crumpled bits of paper all around him. He looked up at Spencer with hollow, lost eyes. "I can't draw." He said, far too quietly. "I wanted to start to work on sketches, you know, for the holidays." Every year he had given them each a sketch of the other, nicely framed. "But I couldn't. I can remember her, in perfect detail, but when I tried to put it on paper it just wouldn't go. I can't."

"That's understandable." Spencer folded himself and sat next to his love. "I haven't been able to, uh, think fondly of anyone since she was taken." Polite family euphemisms come in so handy at times, he thought.

"So that's it then?" Thom asked bitterly. "She doesn't come back and we move into your place, set up a room with two twin beds again and live like monks the rest of our lives?"

Spencer was quiet a moment. "I'd be all right with that." He admitted.

"Hell, so would I." Thom sighed. "I know we're not supposed to ask but what are they doing to her, Spencer?"

"Thom…"

"No. You should not be carrying this alone. And I…I cannot continue on without knowing what I'm up against. I know you said they were starving her, and I _know_ they're beating on her, not that I ever figured out why…."

"Well the lack of proper care can be at least partially attributed to greed. They don't want to spend the money on proper, wholesome nutrition." It was easier this way, Spencer thought, to be able to step aside and think like a profiler for a moment. "And the idea of corporal punishment can be a result of a diminished sense of agency, in the greater philosophical sense. Albert Bandura has argued that in many activities individuals do not have direct control over social conditions and institutional practice that affect their lives. Under these circumstances, they seek their well-being and security through the exercise of proxy agency, in this case God. And they take their feelings of anger and helplessness out on the people around them they _can_ control, namely the children."

"I get that."

"Once you get past the abuse as a result of greed and the abuse as a result of lack of agency, the most common thread so far seems to be abuse as a result of fear of female sexuality. The women's movement of the '60's and '70's made life extraordinarily difficult for many men of that generation. All of a sudden women expected to actually reach orgasm and if they didn't they'd move on to other men. It was kind of a shock."

"What, before they didn't?"

"Yeah, only 35% of women can actual reach orgasm through traditional intercourse alone. People in our generation grew up with the idea of foreplay and masturbation during a sexual encounter and all the rest of it as expected, but back then it was unheard of in most of the country. All of a sudden women started talking, Mom used to talk about women would have these Consciousness raising groups where they would actually compare notes and a lot of women realized what they were missing. According to her much of the impetus behind women going to work and no-fault divorce and women having access to their own credit and all of it was because women wanted to be able to move on from bad sexual relationships and be free to pursue new ones. For a lot of older men that was terrifying. I mean, not being able to please your partner and having them leave…"

"Yeah, I can get that too."

"So a lot of what they are doing to these girls is either a subconscious desire to punish the women who wronged them once, which we see in many offenders or a desire to turn them into pure, non-sexual beings and so avoid the issue altogether. Thankfully so far most of the damages have been cosmetic…"

"Somehow I don't think you're talking powder and eyeliner there." Thom pointed out.

"Well they haven't caused irreversible injury, structural damage."

"All right. But most of the damages?"

"Do you really want the gory details?"

"Probably not, but something here is bothering you."

Spencer sighed. "The one constant theme is self-denial. They want the appearance of the girl's actively rejecting their adult sexuality. Granted they threaten to withhold food, to withhold water, beatings, solitary confinement, punishments that would fall under the Geneva Convention, all to make the girls do it to themselves, but the goal is to get them to do it to themselves and outwardly acknowledge that they are doing it to themselves because they deserve it."

"Oh Milly won't fall for that." Thom insisted. "She'll go along but she won't take it personally. She learned that from Sharon years ago."

"Yes, but even with that she was on the verge of a…a delusional dissociation disorder back in '02."

"Once again for the engineer."

"She was starting to derealize, to detach from her physical body, she was having delusional episodes of Mirrored-self misidentification where she didn't recognize herself in the mirror, where she felt like someone else was in control of her body and she was just watching things happening to herself, where her internal state was much more real than her external reality, that she didn't exist in our reality at all. It's not an uncommon response to this kind of abuse. Dr. King treated her for that in the aftermath of what happened with Sharon but at that point it was fairly mild. After this I'm…I'm just afraid she'll fall back into it co-morbidly with having to abuse herself just to survive."

"Is it treatable?"

"It's a lot harder to treat than the physiological, but not impossible. The problem is that she might not be willing to work on physical healing until we deal with the psychological."

"Then we'll figure it out." Thom chuckled. "And we were worried about Christmas."

"Yeah."


	41. Part 5: Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

**North Stafford High School  
Stafford VA  
11/28/05**

**Joey**

It was almost inevitable that there would be a fight.

When they got to school Monday morning Joey and Thom found their lockers covered in graffiti, what looked like crude saying about, well, he wasn't sure what since it was already half painted out. The custodian helped them carefully get into their lockers and then they went to class. Thom didn't seem to mind any of it and Joey decided to follow his lead and let it go.

All was quiet until lunchtime came around again. Once again Matt and his crew got up to start their bible study. "Anyone who does not want to participate can leave." Matt said again, "Now."

Joey and the others looked over at Thom. "Don't do it." Joey begged.

But Thom just smiled at him, a crazy, hollow smile that did not reach eyes that were suddenly lost and desperate and somehow very, very angry. "You worry too much prefrosh."

"Let us pray." At that moment Thom unfolded himself and took his tray over to the station, dropping it on the pile with another loud WHAP, interrupting Matt's prayer. "Do you have a problem?" Matt snarled at him angrily."

"No, but you do." Thom replied mildly, his accent thicker than usual, pitching his voice loud enough for the entire hall to hear. "And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, they have their reward. But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly. Matthew, Chapter 6, verses five and six."

Thom turned and left to a low "ooooo" which slowly filled the hall. Bernie turned to Joey, shocked. "Dude, he did not just call Matt out using the Bible."

"Yeah," Joey said. "I think he just did." With that he scrambled to follow his friend.

* * *

Later that day Matt and his crew found them just as school was letting out for the day. "Hey!" He called out as they stalked up. "Do we have a problem?!" He asked Thom.

"I don't have a problem with you." Thom replied evenly. "I have to respect a man who publicly stands up for his convictions."

Matt decided to move on to the bigger point. "Then maybe you have a problem with God?"

"No." Thom thought a moment. "Well yes, but I do believe that is between me and Him and not your business. No, the problem I have is with Samuel Stoddard and his habit of getting people to force his beliefs onto others."

"Samuel Stoddard is a prophet of the Lord and a great man." Matt insisted.

"Samuel Stoddard is a homophobe, a misogynist, a manipulative sadist and a con man whose main goal is to destroy families and fleece his followers out of every dime he can before their lives fall apart. If he's working for any supernatural being it's the other one."

"You take that back!" Matt snapped.

"No, because I'd say that to the man's face. You know what I think the problem is here, Stoddard has you believing that there is only one right way to live and anyone who lives any other way is weak and miserable and someone you can and should just step all over. You've never met someone different who has the strength and confidence to stand up and challenge your beliefs and that is scaring you to death. Well, just keep breathing, son, you'll get over it."

With that Matt sank his fist into Thom's stomach.

Thom doubled over and staggered back a few steps as the crowd that had gathered murmured. Matt had a vicious little smile on his face at the reaction. Thom stayed bent over a moment, but when he stood up he looked somehow finally happy. "Do you think that counted as the first punch?" He asked Joey. Joey nodded, confused. "Good." Thom smiled and stood up and turned back to face Matt. Matt threw another punch but this time Thom blocked it and threw one himself, right at Matt's nose.

And with that the fight got underway.

It didn't take long for Matt to land on the ground, clutching at his bleeding face. Then the rest of his crew waded in, all big, hard football players. But Thom stayed on his feet, almost dancing, warding them off with kicks and punches and weird-ass moves that had them going down, one clutching his groin, one his stomach, and then another and another and one more…

Finally only Thom was left standing. He was breathing hard, and his knuckles were split and bleeding but he didn't seem to have any other mark on him. "All right, I am going to say this one time!" He said, spreading his arms to the watching crowd and speaking loud enough to be heard. "I am an Atheist, a faggot and the biggest geek in this school! If anyone is going to take issue with anyone carrying any of those names for the rest of the year bring it now and let's get it over with!"

The crowd was silent, and then slowly the applause built like rain.

* * *

Joey stuck with his friend, right up to the principal's office, right through his receiving an in-school suspension for the next three days, right through the calling of his guardian, right up through said guardian's arrival. "I knew this was going to happen." Agent Hotchner said.

"I didn't throw the first punch." Thom insisted, mildly. "There were a hundred witnesses to that."

"No, you deliberately manipulated him into it."

"He's one of Stoddard's bully boys. It needed to be done."

By then they were in the office lobby, where Matt and his crew were waiting for their parents, all battered and bloody. "I'm glad you pulled your punches." Agent Hotchner said. "I assume you feel better."

"I stayed away from their joints as well, so they can still play ball." Thom replied, "Moderately so."

Agent Hotchner just sighed. "I'll meet you at home."

As they left the office and headed for the parking lot a steady stream of students came up to Thom to congratulate him and thank him for taking down the school bully. No less than six girls gave him their contact information. "What the heck am I going to do with these?" He asked Joey.

"Frame them for your wall." That's what he would do.

Then Jason, star of the music department, came up to Thom. He stood too close, and when he left Thom was holding another slip of paper and finally, finally looked discomforted as he watched Jason walk away. "I _am_ in a committed relationship." He said finally. "And it _would_ be robbing the cradle."

"He's a senior." Joey pointed out. "He's eighteen."

Thom just watched for a long moment, then shook his head and got in the car. "I am _never_ going to get used to high school."

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** I posted another cut scene over on the LiveJournal account associated with this story. It's connected with chapter 51, but it's not in any way spoiler-ish and people have been asking for the smuttier stuff so I decided to post it early. See the bottom of my profile for the link.


	42. Part 5: Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico, VA  
12/05/05**

**Spencer**

The problem was that life went on.

Thom served his in-class suspension, during which he found a likely therapist, nutritionist, internist, and OB/GYN, and made appointments for the two of them to go talk to all of them, pre-armed with a permission to arrange for treatment letter for him, Spencer, to carry if anyone gave them a hard time. He also found a Krav Maga gym and started heading over there twice a week after school, the prefrosh in tow. Spencer pointed out that they were looking at a classic case of hero worship, to which Thom replied that the prefrosh were _supposed_ to worship the post-grads in the House, after all, they were the embodiment of everything the prefrosh wanted to become.

Confidence, thy name is Thom Hartmann.

He and the team went off to McAllister, Virginia to explore the Satanic killing that wasn't where he almost got his head blown off and then he got tackled by Morgan. He _really_ needed to get into classes with Thom.

Stevie – pardon, _Stephen_ – really settled in at St. Alban's at last. He made some friends in his grade, was getting along fine with the slightly older freshmen in the dorm, and was now seeing a counselor twice a week, who was helping him work out his issues with his Mom and Dad. Thom was also seeing a counselor every week, only in his case, it was one chosen and mandated by DCFS, especially after the fight. Not that it was getting him anywhere, her was merrily leading her in circles, refusing to discuss his problems with some social worker intern, preferring to wait until he was 18 and could chose his own therapist. "If I told her the real issues," he said, "she'd need her own therapy."

On two Sundays in a row they went out and collected up Christmas. A tree, of course, and ornaments, the glass ones she favored according to Stephen, and ones to if not replace her collection then to settle in an appropriate new one. Balls decorated with the Union Jack and nutcrackers in the various uniforms of the Household Guard, a ball with the CalTech logo, a personalized rugby player, a laser cut golden FBI shield, an aluminum JPL ornament found on Ebay, red cowboy boots like the ornaments she gathered at Knott's Berry Farm where they always spent the day after Boxing Day, a laser cut Los Angeles skyline, an ornament from Hollywood, a Pasadena rose. Nothing from anywhere in DC, as Stephen pointed out she'd want to gather those when she visited the local landmarks. They picked out felt stocking kits and set them aside for her as well.

And then there were gifts. Spencer picked out a hat for her, as he did every year, a straw one beribboned in black this time, something basic to protect her English rose skin in the summer and go with everything until her collection could be replaced. He also got caps for Thom and Stephen, not for gifts but because of the coming snow. He got Thom a leather-bound copy of Frank Herbert's _Dune_ to add to his very nice sci-fi library, as he had every year, and to read since he hadn't, deprived childhood and all. Granted this year, thanks to Mark Bennett's generosity he didn't have to pick it up secondhand. The two of them collaborated on getting Stephen the video game he'd been quietly longing for. Thom gave him and Milly each a gift that felt like a picture frame which Spencer suspected held an IOU that would come due once his other muse returned.

Thanks to Stephen's memory they were also starting to mail order replacements for her things. A shop in London yielded everything from shoes to bags for toiletries to her favorite pajamas and robe and even a shower cap, all of it in the delicate florals she liked so well that even Garcia couldn't find in the States. Her toiletry bag was full of the things she liked, just waiting for her to come home and start taking care of herself again, and there was even a stack of her favorite books waiting on her nightstand. Spencer could only hope that since she couldn't go back to LA that coming home to familiar faces and familiar things would help keep the demons of psychosis away.

The only thing missing were her hair ribbons, they had yet to find a shop that sold the kind they were looking for. But they had not yet given up.

However, it was starting to make a pile. They were steadfastly trying not to take over the Hotchner's basement too badly. It was one large room with a wet bar on one side, a treadmill on the other, and the big TV and sitting area down by the door. The rest of the room was empty to the point of being hollow. There were two bedrooms down there, and one bath, and the laundry room. They had kind of taken over the wet bar, but otherwise, with the exception of Thom's drafting table tucked in the corner by the room he shared with Stephen on week-ends, they had confined everything to the two bedrooms, that way everything stayed neat and tidy and didn't make any extra work for Haley. But once they got the ornaments going, and then the tree, it kind of started to pile up.

"Are we all going to fit in your apartment, brother bear?" Thom had asked him.

Spencer's apartment was a 600 square foot efficiency studio, which still cost an exorbitant amount, but which was very secure and close to, well, everything. It also came furnished, which meant that it had the grace and charm of a halfway decent hotel room, but given that he was on the road four nights a week it did the job. "No." Spencer replied. "The original plan was that Milly was going to rent or buy something and we were going to move in with her." Given that she would come into at least part of her trust fund then it would have been a simple matter, and for her, affordable.

"Will_ I_ fit in your apartment?"

"Good question. What do you want in an apartment?"

"A real kitchen."

* * *

**Archstone Van Ness Apartments  
3003 Van Ness St. NW  
Washington, DC  
12/11/05**

Well that settled it. For an extra $300 a month he was able to move up to a one-bedroom with a real kitchen in the same building. Moving would take a day, at most. Spencer walked out of the rental office, sat on the small wall around the lawn and looked at the bland, blank buildings around him. This was not what he had been hoping for; this was supposed to be temporary. Milly had been talking about her own house, something old they could renovate, something cozy with a big kitchen and room for a family…

Twenty-seven days, he thought. She's been missing twenty-seven days and the world without her is impossibly bleak. I don't know that any of us will survive it.

His phone rang, stirring him out of daydreams of real kitchens and perhaps small children. The number was familiar. "Hey Hotch. I'm on my way."

"We'll pick you up at the station." Hotch replied. "We're heading to New York. They found Sharon."

* * *

**Metropolitan Correctional Center, Manhattan  
New York, NY**

"Shouldn't she have gone to California?" Thom asked. He was along as a visitor, and in case the team had any questions. This time Spencer was a guest as well.

"She's on her way out there." Hotch replied. "She was taking a Mediterranean cruise when a very alert customs agent spotted her. This is a transfer stop."

"So who's going in?" Spencer asked.

"Morgan. Hopefully her desire for male attention will weaken her resolve."

Morgan had very deliberately removed his tie and opened a button or two on his shirt. "Good morning Ms. Bennett." He gave her his most charming smile, one she returned. But her lawyers were much more expensive than her designer clothes, and they were unmoved. "Sorry we had to break off your vacation, but we have kind of a problem."

"Oh, I'm sure you do." She breathed. "But I can't help you."

"Oh?"

"You see." She leaned closer and smiled and spoke very slowly and patiently. "I sent a letter to her mother, and Patricia had some friends come and get her. I don't know where her mother sent her. I didn't care enough to ask."

Morgan lost his smile. "And that they used a taser didn't bother you?"

"That was for my protection. That girl is as strong as an ox. Plays rugby you know, studied martial arts. And she attacked me, attacked me in my own kitchen in front of a half dozen witnesses not three months ago. They had to subdue her quickly for everyone's safety, including her own. No," Sharon sat back and patted her hair back into place. "She's her bio mom's problem now."

"Milly was defending herself!" Thom insisted. "I saw it! So did Stephen!"

"I know." Hotch said calmly. "She's building a case for self-defense; the good step-mother giving the out-of-control daughter back to her mother. Then Patricia Gault says Milly was too wild to control at home, so she turned the matter over to her Pastor, and the Pastor sent her to a home that should help."

"So how do we get her to tell us where Milly is?"

"We can't," Spencer said something black and vast opening in his throat. He'd been watching Sharon's body language the entire time, and it all said one thing. "She doesn't know. She's telling the truth."


	43. Part 5: Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico, VA  
12/29/05**

**Hotch**

Christmas had been mildly less morbid than Thanksgiving. Once again Stephen behaved well, once again Thom and Spencer had taken over the kitchen, leaving Haley just having to monitor the goose. All her relatives had tramped down for Jack's First Christmas, leaving enough gifts to almost make him need to park outside. Her relatives had very thoughtfully brought gifts for the boys, who now had enough inexpensive scarves and mittens to last the next three winters and enough gift cards to outfit their new apartment when the time came. The guys had given him and Haley a Christmas ornament of three elves, which Haley found touching. It was all very kindly done, even if he could see the tension around their eyes all day.

The next morning they had tramped off to Colonial Williamsburg, leaving him to visit with the in-laws who had stayed in the area over night. They'd come home actually happy, which he was surprised to see. He'd been told it was perfect, she was going to love it next year, and Mark Bennett would have loved it as well, he'd been there in spirit, they were sure of it. As proof Stephen proudly displayed the basket they'd filled with a rainbow of silk and embroidered ribbons, just waiting to tie back someone's hair.

On Wednesday, yesterday, Thom had gone to therapy and he finally had some kind of a blow out, or so Hotch had thought when the therapist called him right after Haley said Thom came home upset. But it might not have been a blow out over grief or loss after all; it might have been something deeper. Which is what led him to Gideon's door this late, well after everyone else had gone home. "You look upset." Gideon pointed out.

"I am." Hotch admitted. "I'm about to use the words 'Reid' and 'sex' in the same sentence."

"This ought to be good." Gideon settled back and gave his colleague his complete attention.

"Thom has been in mandatory counseling through DCFS." Hotch began. "It hasn't been going anywhere, which isn't surprising, but he's at least been playing along to keep everything quiet. And then yesterday she asked him to draw a picture of his family."

"That's a standard therapeutic technique." Gideon pointed out. "Have the client draw their family and then use that picture to explore how they see relationships."

"I know. She said he refused, and when she tried to explore why he became more and more agitated and upset. Finally he drew this and stormed out." He opened the file he was carrying and showed Gideon the picture. It was a set of hastily scrawled random stick figures, no identifying marks, bearing no relation to each other. "I know he can draw, he's a gifted artist."

"Did he say why?"

"According to the therapist he said he doesn't draw people. But I remembered this." He placed the drawing Reid kept on his desk in front of Gideon, done with delicacy and emotion and exquisite detail. "So I know that was a lie. I wanted to see if he had any more drawings of people, which might shed some light on the subject…"

"…but Haley told you that going through a teenager's private papers as a parent was a betrayal…"

Hotch nodded. "…and then I remembered that we had Milly Bennett's scrapbook in evidence." He placed it on the desk. "You should know, some of the drawings in there are…explicit."

Gideon started flipping through. "Paraphilia," he surmised after only a few drawings. "You think he's a voyeur?"

"I suspect. It fits the behavior."

"You know there's a difference between Paraphilia and Paraphiliac Disorder."

"The difference being if it's causing distress to the subject or harm to others, I know. Thom seems well-adjusted, I just wonder if Reid knows."

Gideon flipped a few more pages. "Spencer knows."

"How do you know?"

"Most men either masturbate in the shower for ease of clean up or in bed where they can relax. Not leaning against the dresser. He was posing."

Hotch had not looked that closely at that particular picture. "All right. Why?"

"Maybe because he loves Thom and wanted to give him the pleasure. Capturing an image is a sexualized act for the voyeur, seeing what others don't see, knowing what others don't know."

"But then he gives his pictures away?"

"To his lovers. Thom comes from a culture that attempts to deny all expressions of sexuality. But that's impossible so they willfully blind themselves to the sight of it around them. You can see them walking down the street, looking at their shoes, for fear of seeing a sexualized advertisement somewhere. Thom's gift makes his vision highly sensitive, he captures every detail. It could be as simple as he saw so-and-so giving someone a flirtatious glance and he told a parent only to be punished for witnessing it or for speaking out about it. Now he takes pleasure in having his vision validated. That's the sexual give and take, let me look at you, yes look at me, this is what I see, what you saw is true."

"Is that enough to cause courtship disorder?"

"No. Something else would have to have happened to interrupt development at that stage. And it wouldn't explain the co-morbid troilism." Hotch hadn't heard of that one. "Watching your lover with another person; no, something must have happened between the ages of, what, nine to eleven, to interrupt normal development and cause development of an exclusive paraphilia."

"Exclusive?" Exclusive meaning not being aroused in the conventional way at all, "You think he and Reid aren't having a…"

"Physical relationship? You've been observing them, you tell me."

Hotch thought back to how Thom and Spencer acted around each other. "You're right, they're physically affectionate but not to the extent you would expect from a consummated relationship. So what is Reid getting out of this?"

"I'm not sure. I can tell you what Milly is getting out of it, validation." He held up the last picture of Milly resplendent in her heirloom wedding dress. "It doesn't matter what your step-mother says, I see you as beautiful, and this is what I see. Spencer sees you as beautiful; this is how he is when he is with you. This is what gave her the resiliency to survive the years of emotional abuse. She may even have developed a paraphilia of her own, a bit of an exhibitionist, although in her case it's probably only optional, it would enhance the conventional experience, not overtake it."

"And what does she get from Reid?"

"The same thing Haley gets from you." Gideon held up a picture of a thankfully younger Reid and a younger Milly locked in a passionate embrace. "That's the physical relationship here."

"So Reid lost his lover, Thom lost his muse. One of his muse. But back to what Reid is getting out of the relationship with Thom."

"The pleasure of making the people he loves happy?" Gideon closed the scrapbook, put it back in the evidence bag and rubbed his eyes. "We're missing something; didn't Mark Bennett leave Thom a chunk of money directly?"

"Yes. A million dollars to…" Hello. "…cover his medical expenses. You think the problem may be physical?"

"If it happened before puberty then hormones would find another way to express themselves."

"Why not get it dealt with before now?"

"Because they're still working out how to apply HIPPA laws to foster kids; think about the number of people who have seen his file so far."

Hotch winced. "Good point. So he waits until he's eighteen when he can get it dealt with in privacy."

Gideon nodded "And Reid is emotionally attached to both of them and deeply values fidelity and so refuses to choose or take sides until Thom is healthy because he wouldn't want to experiment with anyone else. Meaning he still is not certain where his own interests lie."

"So we're back to what is he getting out of it?" Hotch pointed out.

"I don't know." Gideon replied. "But he's not the kind to let it go unconsidered. Whatever it is, he's well aware of it and good with it. And as for Thom being dangerous, I'd bet money that the only people he draws are Spencer and Milly. He also values fidelity."

"And that's why he was so upset with the therapist." Hotch sighed. "She was asking him to perform the equivalent of masturbation for her, which he responded to as a violation. Now how do I get him to go back to her?"

"You don't. You're the advocate, get him a new one. Without letting on that you know, to any of them."

"And I thought raising teenagers was turning out to be easy."

* * *

.

* * *

**Note: **This chapter comes with a cut scene over at the LiveJournal account associated with this story. Please see the link at the bottom of my profile.


	44. Part 5: Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico, VA  
01/04/06**

**Hotch**

Hotch looked up as a very damp Spencer Reid climbed up on his desk, just as Thom gave a sharp whistle that echoed around the floor. "Everyone, the storm is getting worse." Spencer pointed out. "Security said what will probably be the last round of shuttles for the station is leaving in fifteen minutes. If you need to catch a train to the city…."

There was a general movement toward an exodus. Hotch shut the very troubling file he was looking over and headed down to the bull pen where he found not only Spencer and Thom but Joey and Stephen, both equally wet and snowy. "What happened?" He asked.

"The plows are having trouble keeping up." Spencer told him. "Thom and Joey came to pick us up at the station but we couldn't get my car out of the station parking lot. And the power is out in DC, we can't head back into the city, so I put everyone on the shuttle, I figured your SUV had a better chance."

"And we need something parental." Thom finished.

"I have to parent?" Hotch said, jokingly. "Haven't I already done that once this week?" Which was about as often as Thom actually needed something, on average.

"My Mom is stuck at a training downtown, Sir." Joey admitted. "I don't really have anywhere to go tonight."

"We'll find room in the basement. Let's let the elevators clear out, we'll leave in twenty. You three go wait over at the break table. Reid?" Hotch led the way back to his office, knowing that the eldest tribe member would close the door behind him. "I got a report from Carol Mack. The CARD team raided another house this morning."

"Anything?"

"Not Milly." Thankfully Reid wasn't that hopeful, if they had found Milly he knew Hotch would have said something right off, especially with her missing for fifty-one days now. Hotch held up the file. "No, she found four girls all from the same church, all of whom had been there a little over a month; all of whom she rescued back in November."

Reid's face fell. "Their parents sent them to another reform home?"

Hotch nodded, "Where they were re-traumatized. She doesn't know what she's going to do; these places are technically legal in these states. The abuse is illegal, of course, but the parents aren't considered culpable. All they did was send their girls off to a church school."

Reid had quickly looked over the file. "All worries about Milly aside, how do we stop them?"

"I don't know yet."

* * *

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford VA  
11/05/06**

**Spencer**

"What are you reading, brother bear?"

It was late, the storm still raged outside, the younger boys were in bed, and Hotch and his family were up on the second floor, settled in by the fire. Spencer was curled on the sofa. Thom had just finished his work for the night, now he came over and flopped down next to his love. Spencer finished the paragraph and gently turned the fragile page. "Millicent Lyden-Bennett's journals, I just got to the part about her wedding."

"Oh?"

Spencer cleared his throat.

_This morning Peter and I bowed to convention and took our vows before our families in the chapel at Ravensworth Castle. I must admit I bristled at the entire spectacle; we only went through with it to satisfy my brother Charles so he would release my fortune. I know he was shocked when I wore Aunt Philippa's gown as my wedding dress, but even though I bowed to legality I wanted him to know that I was hewing to family custom. Given that we dared not invite any of our friends from the Continent to Ravensworth Charles was the only guest who understood the meaning behind that dress; that I was taking two husbands as Philippa did before me._

"Well that explains why I couldn't find that style of dress anywhere." Thom said. "It's Victorian. I was dating it later."

Spencer continued…

_Eschewing the ridiculous custom of a bride isolating herself before the wedding the three of us gathered in a quiet corner of the churchyard earlier this morning. There we each took our vows to Henry prior to the ceremony, as I did not want him to feel slighted, a second-best outsider watching the real union taking place. Rather, I wanted him to feel like he was already part of our union, and this was merely the last step on the way to joining the three of us forever. Henry was ostensibly the Best Man, but we knew the truth._

"Sounds like taking two husbands is a tradition in her family." Thom pointed out. "I kinda like that, though, that she was thinking it through like that." He leaned over and easily rested his head on Spencer's shoulder.

"Yeah. We should make a point of that when the time comes. When Milly comes home." Spencer put his arm around Thom's shoulder and for a few moments couldn't help but consider the large, dark space in their lives where a person ought to be.

"Yeah."

* * *

**Sandy Valley Ranch  
Big Sandy TX  
01/06/06**

**Matt**

"I'm just glad we're not back east." Matt's father boomed out. "Tons of snow back there, they're going to be digging out all week-end."

Matt smiled. After having to put up with that new little pervert at school and having everyone take his side, it was a relief to get back among normal, decent folks once again. He'd honestly thought he was saving those kids, but then Satan sent in one of his imps and the whole thing was blown. He was looking forward to the first church retreat of the year, even if it was a short one.

"I can't wait to meet that new family." Matt's mother cooed. "I bet she has a ton of great recipes."

New family? Matt's stomach churned. Great, just what he needed, another one.

As soon as he could Matt wandered off to find the other boys. And sure enough, there they were, all kind of hanging around the kitchen doors, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the girls working within. "Hey." He said to Josh and Juss, a couple of the familiar faces there. "So where are these new kids?" Might as well get it over with.

"Oh, over here," Juss nodded.

Matt looked that way and froze in place. There was no way! This was not happening! No, no, it was all right, this would make sense in a minute. He just had to play it cool. "Hey there, I'm Matt." He said, offering his hand.

"John." The newcomer said in return. "These are my brothers, Mark, Paul and Andrew."

"Nice to meet you all. Welcome to Sandy Valley. Say, you don't have another brother, do you? 'Cause we just got this new kid at my school who looks exactly like all of you."

John cocked his head and looked him over. "Is he kind of a geek?"

"Kind of nothing, he's the biggest geek you ever met."

"Is he a pervert?"

"Openly."

"Name of Thomas?"

"Yeah, that would be him."

John Hartmann chuckled. "Well well, I never thought my brother would leave his ivory tower. We've been meaning to have a bit of a talk with him. Where are you all from again?"

Matt slowly smiled.

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** End of Part 5


	45. Part 6: Chapter 45

_**Part 6**_

_I know that war is very cruel and that life is harder when you aren't able to live in the place you called home.  
- Madeleine Albright_

* * *

**Chapter 45**

**First Baptist Church ****  
1601 Bryan Street,  
Chillicothe, MO  
01/15/06**

**Billy **

If there was one thing Deputy Billy Preston hated it was working over a Sunday.

Oh he supposed Sheriff Cox knew how the men felt about working on Sundays. But sometimes he did have to wonder. It did seem like a lot of Baptists ended up working on Sundays. As they left the church he elbowed his partner Kyle. "Did you ever notice that a lot of Baptists have to work on Sundays?"

"That's because the force is two-thirds Baptist." Kyle pointed out.

"Oh."

The weather had turned uncommonly mild for January. A number of people were standing around without coats, including the girls from the Jubilee Valley Home. It was a home for girls who couldn't be controlled by their families, run by Pastor Carl and his associate Brother Cray out in the countryside. Every Sunday they went to a different Baptist church in the area, to sing and give testimony and beg for donations. This was the second Sunday they'd been around, Billy recalled. Voices of angels, the lot of them. And after Pastor Carl got done with them they were the kind of girls that any parent would be proud of, meek, quiet, polite, shame-faced, dressed all modest. Too bad they were all Strange Women, with hardened harlot's hearts that would not be redeemed. And some of them were little too, one looked to be all of five, standing there holding another girl's hand. Still, it was a blessing that Pastor Carl was showing them the narrow way, maybe in the next life Christ would have mercy upon them.

It was one of these girls who detached herself from the group and came over to where they were standing, waiting a polite amount of time before heading back to the cruiser. She was tall, yes, and slender and looked meek and mild in that two-part dress all the girl's wore. Granted she had that covering that some of them had to wear over their hair, probably the real bad ones, but she looked as pleasant as the others. "Excuse me." She said, quite politely. "May I speak?"

They all started that way. "'Course darlin'." He and Kyle both smiled at her.

"If I hit you, will you arrest me?"

Huh? Kyle looked as confused as he did. "I'm sorry?" He couldn't have heard that right.

"If I hit you and I _hurt_ you, will you arrest me?"

He chuckled. "Sweetheart, if you think you can hurt a fully grown police_man_ then you go right ahead and try. If you do it then yea, we will arrest you."

A moment later Billy Preston's world exploded in a fireball of pain as his nose was forced back into his face.


	46. Part 6: Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

**Livingstone County Sheriff's Office  
901 Webster St  
Chillicothe, MO**  
**01/15/06**

**Sheriff Cox**

Sheriff Jerry Cox hated being called away from his church and his family on a Sunday. At this point in his career he figured he had earned the right to a little quiet time to rest and renew among his fellow Lutherans at the end of the week. But when word got back to him that there were five Baptist preachers in his jail about to perform an exorcism he thought he ought to look into the matter personally.

He got there and sure enough there were five men in bad suits and varying states of baldness carrying bibles and either praying or talking quietly to one of his men, while the others on duty were milling behind the counter. "Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on." Because damn it, whatever it was it had to happen on a Sunday.

Kurt was the chief deputy, and a good one, having been one for going on twenty years now and having been a Navy corpsman for twenty before that. Come a crisis, he just got calmer and more direct. He was also a life-long Methodist, they were calm people too. "Apparently one of the girls from the Jubilee Valley Home attacked Billy Preston after church this morning; broke his nose into pieces. According to Kyle she flew into a rage, cussing and spitting and fighting so hard they had to wrestle her to the ground and bring her in cuffed. Kyle said that she calmed down as soon as they were in the car, too calm he said. Now they're saying she's got a demon in her or some such crap and they want to do an exorcism."

"What do you think?"

"Well, we don't hold with demons much over at my church. No, this one reminds me of some of the girls I saw in Nam; something in the eyes." He shuddered just a little. "Something else is going on here Sheriff."

"That is not what I wanted to hear. Where's Billy?"

"Over at the hospital, getting his nose patched up." Kurt shook his head. "I didn't know better I'd say she had the kind of training they used to give the Marines. Girl like that shouldn't know how to land that kind of a punch."

"Huh." Right then. Sheriff Cox turned back to the lobby. "Okay, which one of you gentlemen is in charge here?"

One of the men detached themselves from the group. "I'm Pastor Carl Lakeworth. I run the Jubilee Valley Girl's home out on Route 29."

"I'm familiar." Barely. That place was strictly a Baptist operation, run by the church, and as such couldn't be regulated or inspected under state law. He never did hold with that. "What do you know about this girl?"

"Millicent was sent to us by her mother after her father died. Divorced, you understand. She was running around with two men, her mother couldn't control her. She's been a willful thing, trying to control us, but we've been showing her the way and she's been quieting down. Now this, I just don't know where it came from."

"Uh-huh." The moment he said divorce and death Sheriff Cox began to suspect what might have really been the start of all this. He looked over at Kyle. "Where is she?"

"Interrogation one." Sheriff Cox turned that way. "You're not going to go in there alone, are you Sir? I mean, the demon…"

"I do believe the Lord protects his flock, gentlemen, even from demons trapped in little girls." With that he stepped in to the interrogation room and looked over the girl sitting there. She was dressed in one of those frilly two-part dresses the Baptists around here loved to put on their girls, with a cloth covering her long hair. She was rocking back and forth a little, nibbling on the nails on the hand that wasn't handcuffed to the table. She'd bitten those nails down to blood already; he could see it from here. Kurt was correct in his assessment, something was not right here. "So, sweetheart, what's your name?'

"Millicent Bennett," she replied, quietly but straight.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Where are you from?"

"Pasadena, California."

"Is that where your parents are?"

"My father is dead, I never met my mother."

Aw hell. "All right. Why did you attack one of my men?"

"So he would arrest me."

"Why did you want to be arrested?"

She finally turned her head and looked at him, her blue eyes somehow too bright and too fierce. For a moment he could see where the whole demon thing was coming from. "So you would run my fingerprints through your computer."

Now that was completely unexpected. "Why do you want me to do that?'

"Run them and find out."

Huh. Well all right. He stuck his head out the door and called for Kurt to come in here. "If I take those cuffs off are you going to cause any trouble?"

"No sir."

"All right." Kurt got her out of her cuffs while he stepped out into the lobby. "Kyle, Chris," He nodded to the two deputies. "Would you make sure none of these fine gentlemen leave for the next ten minutes or so."

"Yes, sir."

Pastor Carl looked over at him. "Why? What's going on?"

"Your demon in there wants me to run her fingerprints. You have any idea why?" The pastors looked confused and shook their heads. "You sure about that?'

"Absolutely. But if a demon wants you to do something it has to be to further its agenda. Nothing good can ever come of doing the wishes of evil."

Something was really not right here. All of his instincts were telling him that this was just wrong somehow. "Well running prints isn't a lot of trouble. I think we can give Old Scratch that much."

"Sheriff!" Kurt hollered from the back.

Sheriff Cox headed back there, suddenly certain that some kind of silent demonic rage was erupting all over his bullpen. But the girl in question was sitting there, meek and mild still, nibbling on those nails and looking out the window at nothing much. Kurt was looking at the computer they used to run prints through IAFIS, the FBI database, after collecting them with the electronic gizmo they got with their Homeland Security money. At the moment that screen was lit up like a Christmas tree. "What?"

But before Kurt could answer the phone rang. "Sheriff's office." Kurt listened a moment, swallowed hard, and handed off the phone. "It's for you." He said. "I think I'm gonna go start calling the guys in to work."

Oh-kay. "This is Sheriff Cox." He said into the phone. "Who is this?"

"This is Penelope Garcia from the FBI!" Said a very snappy, very pissed off female voice. "You just ran the fingerprints of a Millicent Bennett, now where did you get those fingerprints?"

"Off the girl sitting here beside me."

"She's alive? She's all right?"

"Yeah…"

"Yes! All right, you need to stay on this line and keep your eyes on her while I get my boss on the phone. Because if anything happens to her he is going to be really, really pissed and I will personally turn every electronic device you ever try to use into a block of Swiss cheese. Now stay!"

Sheriff Cox stayed.

He always did hate coming in to work on a Sunday.


	47. Part 6: Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

**National Harbor  
165 Waterfront St.  
Oxon Hill, MD  
01/15/06**

**Spencer**

Sunday was Milly's Day. After breakfast the three of them had headed over to this particular shopping center both to check it out and to pick up some soap. Stephen couldn't remember her exact brand, but after looking at the website it seemed like they carried the kind of thing she would like. And they had a tea shop here where they could buy her a new pot and stock the wet bar, and a place that sold hats and they didn't know what else they would find. But the general consensus was that Milly would like this place. She had never been into designer or trends or the hottest mall. No, she preferred to go her own way, going to places that were smaller and funky and choosing things by how they felt or smelled or looked rather than going with the herd. And this mall catered to that. "You know what the unfortunate part of all this is." Thom drawled as they left the tea store, bags in hand. "She's going to make us come here with her."

"I'm actually hoping she hits it off with some of my team." Spencer confessed. "Garcia's always talked about this place. And she is a Pageboy."

Thom laughed at that. "No kidding? Well what do you know; we may be off the hook."

Just then Spencer's phone rang. "Speaking of…Hello Garcia?"

"Okay, where are you? And if the rest of your tribe is there then put me on speaker."

"Hold on." He switched his phone over. "Got it. We're at National Harbor, why?"

"Oh god, that place is fab."

"Yeah, we think Milly will like it. So, what's going on?"

"I can't tell you. All I can tell you is that the rest of the team already left on a super secret errand and Hotch told me I can't tell you where because you can't be there."

Wait. "Garcia…" Everything was suddenly lumping together in his head.

"So he wants you to go back to his house and wait. But they're in the air so just between you and me you need to stop at Build-A-Bear and get something completely adorable before you get on the road. Got me?"

All of a sudden they did. They all did. Stephen jumped in the air, his fit pumping. "Yes!"

"Thank you Garcia! Tell him we're on our way!" Spencer rang off and looked over at where Thom was smiling so hard he was almost crying. He couldn't help it, he pulled him into his arms and gave him the biggest kiss, and damn whoever saw.

Today just became the very best day.

* * *

**Livingstone County Sheriff's Office  
901 Webster St  
Chillicothe, MO**

**Sheriff Cox**

By the time he got off the phone and one of the guys handed him the file that came off the fax Sheriff Cox was livid. He'd made a point of going after the fuckers who preyed on children throughout his career, and to find some not only hiding in his town but under the cover of the faith he held dear….yeah, heads were gonna roll over this one.

But Agent Hotchner was right, they had to move quickly but quietly to help as many of the victims as they could. Thankfully he had Kurt right there. "Get on the horn; make sure that everyone coming in uses the back door. Call in the reserve deputies too, we're gonna need bodies."

"What's going on Sheriff?"

"A shitstorm, and we've got to get ahead of it. I'll explain later. Round up as many men as you can and head out to that girl's home, quick but quiet, and set up a perimeter. I don't want them taking any of those girls out of there. Get it set up, you're in charge. No one goes in or out. Got it?"

"You got it Sheriff." He moved.

By then his second had arrived. "What's going on Jerry?" Jim was a barrel of a man, and a twenty-plus year veteran of law enforcement; a good man to have around.

"A shitstorm and we're getting ahead of it. I've got five Baptist preachers in the lobby waiting to perform an exorcism."

"Excuse me?"

"I'll explain in a minute. Go put some men on them to make sure none of them leave or make a phone call."

"Right." He moved too.

Next up was his office manager, Sheri, her daughter Darlene, a senior at the local high school, and what had to be the boy Darlene was currently dating, whatever his name was. "What's going on Sheriff?" Sheri asked.

It was the question of the day. "A shitstorm and we're getting ahead of it. Look, I am calling in everybody with a badge and I'm going to need all of them. I'm also going to need someone to work as a runner. You willing to volunteer for the day?" This was directed at Darlene.

"Sure Sheriff."

He pulled a twenty out of his wallet. "Okay, I want you to head on over to the diner. Come back with, oh hell, some of their chicken soup and a grilled cheese sandwich and some milk and a piece of whatever pie they have. And come back with it hot."

"Yes sir." Darlene and whatshisname took off.

"Sheriff?" Sheri asked.

He held up a finger to stop her. "They call you Milly, don't they?" He asked the little girl who had been sitting at the empty desk, staring out the window at nothing this whole time.

She looked around, a little wary, "Yes, sir."

"All right, I want you to come wait in my office." He tried to put a hand under her elbow to help her to her feet, but she shied away from his touch. She followed quietly, and sat on the couch where bidden. At his gesture Sheri had followed him, and closed the door behind him. He crouched down himself, to be lower than the girl, to try not to scare her. "All right Milly, I know this is tough but I need to ask you one question right off. Did Pastor Carl or Brother Cray touch you in a bad way at all?"

Milly's crumpled and she covered her face with her hands and shook her head. "Not…there. They…they said it was a doctor."

Aw shit fucking hell. "And when did that happen?"

"When I got there. That night."

"Anything since?" She shook her head. Damn, too long to run a kit. "All right. Do you need to go to the emergency room?"

"I want to go home." She said moving her hands and looking at him with those fierce, too bright eyes once again. "I'm sorry about the deputy, but I didn't know what else to do! I just want to go home!"

"I'm sure you do sweetheart. Don't worry about Billy. It'll probably improve his looks." Besides, if this girl could land a punch on him he deserved the hurt. "Now I spoke to your people at the FBI…." At that she quietly started to cry. "…and they are on their way. You just sit tight until they get here."

"What…what about the other girls. You have to help them!"

"We're already working on that. You just stay here and try to rest." He pulled the afghan his wife made off the back and pulled it around her and let her be for now.

At the door he nodded Sheri out into the hall, and found Jim waiting. "What is going on?" Jim asked.

Sheriff Cox sighed. "She's been out at that girl's school on route 29, without the permission of her legal guardian. They've been abusing the girls out there, probably for years. She broke Billy Preston's nose to get away."

"You sure about that?" Jim asked.

The Sheriff opened the file he'd received from Washington, making Jim whistle. "Yeah, what's worse? Her people are FBI. They're about to descend upon us like a cloud of locusts. Sheri, stay in there with her. No one goes in or out. If she has to go to the bathroom go with her and stand outside the stall. When Darlene gets back give the girl her lunch and keep Darlene and whatshisname around in case I need runner."

"Yes Sheriff."

He started heading for the lobby. "Jim, find out how many girls are at that school, we're going to be pulling them all out of there, The State Troopers are on their way to raid the place and shut it down. Get the fire boys to set up a shelter for them at the elementary school and notify the hospital that some might be heading out there and we may need medical at the shelter. They'll know what to do. Have some of the reserve deputies get the barricades out, I would not be surprised if we had a press circus going soon, they've had her all over the media since she went missing." He got to the lobby to find a crowd of irritated preachers waiting for him. "Excuse me, Pastor Carl?"

The sonofabitch in question stepped forward. "Yes?" What's going on?"

"Who provides your medical care out there?'

"Brother Timothy Larch."

Damn it all to fucking hell again. Doc Larch had been a fixture in this town for fifty years. "I thought he retired."

"He did. But he provides basic care for us out of the goodness of his heart. Is something wrong?"

Goodness of his heart my ass, the Sheriff thought. "No, just hang on a minute." He pulled his head back into the hallway. "Go send two men out to arrest Doc Larch." He muttered to Jim.

"What's the charges?"

"Rape, for starters."

"You are not serious."

Sheriff Cox turned and let Jim see exactly how serious he was. Jim didn't say another word, he just went about it. The Sheriff stepped back into the lobby and motioned to the preachers. "Would you all mind joining me in the conference room? Thank you." He had a handful of men tag along, and stand between everyone and the door. Once everyone was settled he looked at the monster in their midst. "Pastor Carl, what do you do with the girls out there?"

"We introduce them to the gospel of the Lord and teach them and train them so they become one of His holy angels. At least we try to, and sometimes we succeed. Why?"

"And how do the girls find their way to you?"

"Oh, their parents send them, when they no longer have control. Their pastors refer them to us and we send some volunteers out to escort them here."

"So Millicent's parents sent her to you?"

"Her mother did, after her father passed away. Unfortunately her father let her run wild and she needed a firm hand."

"Uh-huh. That mother named Haley by any chance?" He asked, looking at the file.

"No, no. I'm not sure…"

"Gault was the name." His assistant spoke up, "John and Patricia Gault out of Montana. She remarried a godly man."

"Uh-huh. And this Patricia Gault had legal custody?"

Pastor Carl had been open up to this point, but now he looked wary. "Well, she is the girl's mother."

"That's not what I asked. Does she have custody? Did she show you the paperwork?"

"Well, I…"

"'Cause I've got a court order here giving custody of one Millicent Ruth Bennett to an Aaron and Haley Hotchner of Stafford, Virginia." He put the paper down on the table.

"Well, I don't…"

"Now I spoke with Mr. Hotchner…excuse me Senior Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner of the FBI all the way out at the home office in Quantico and he sounded more than a little upset about the whole thing. In fact he's had the entire FBI all wound up over the kidnapping of his charge out there. So much so that they're about to descent upon us like it was Judgment Day." Pastor Carl and his assistant started shutting down through all of this, getting that guilty as hell look that he had seen too many times. "Now I don't know how the Lord likes his angels, but I have the eyes and the good common sense He gave me and I assume this Agent Hotchner does as well. And I know that the first question he's going to ask is the same one I want answered and that is how does a girl who looks like _this_…" He threw down a picture taken by one Derek Morgan back in the fall of a hale and hearty young woman, strong and confident and bright. "…end up looking like _that_ in only three months time?"

By now the other pastors were whispering amongst themselves. Pastor Carl however, only looked at his associate. "I want my lawyer."

"I'm sure you do. Carl Lakeworth, Cray Sherman, both of you are under arrest for kidnapping, child neglect, child endangerment, child abuse, transporting a minor across state lines for immoral purposes, false imprisonment, and whatever else I can think up." He looked up at his men, now as pissed as he was. "Read them their rights and get them out of here! And the rest of you better go home and calm down your congregations. One person so much as mutters the word persecution over this and I'll show them exactly what that word really means. Now get out of my station!"

Yeah. He was done.


	48. Part 6: Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

**Livingstone County Sheriff's Office  
901 Webster St  
Chillicothe, MO  
01/15/06**

**Sheriff Cox**

It took just over an hour for the first gaggle of FBI to arrive.

The CARD team – Child Abduction Rapid Deployment – out of Chicago arrived first and in force. They landed at the airport and seemed to be organized right out of the plane. "This is the fifteenth of these we've done." The team leader, a Linda Yamamoto told him. "We knew Agent Hotchner's ward was being held in one of these homes, we've been rattling everyone we could find to try to locate her."

"And you shut them down every time?" Sheriff Cox asked. "They're legal you know."

"Yes, but we have yet to find one where the girls aren't being horrifically abused." She sighed over her work. "I'm sure the original concept was good and everyone's heart was in the right place but the nature of the system, the insistence on independence and lack of oversight, make this kind of thing a natural haven for predators. All they have to do is declare themselves a preacher, maybe go through a two year program at some unaccredited training school somewhere, raise enough money to buy the property and parents will literally give them victims. And when the girls try to ask for help the parents ignore them because they're being rebellious and the preacher is a man of God. We really need to eliminate the religious exemption for schools and have every residential home for children inspected and supervised."

"Amen to that." Sheriff Cox nodded. "Now I know why they keep fighting it so damn hard."

"I know. You would think that would be the first red flag. I mean, why fight it if you don't have anything to hide?"

Just then Darlene came up to him. "Sheriff, Mom wants to talk to you."

Aw hell. He nodded Linda to come with him. The girl hadn't moved much, she was still sitting on his couch, nibbling on her nails, rocking herself, and staring out the window. Sheri met them at the door. "She's not eating." She said. "And she's not talking much to me."

"Maybe she's not hungry."

"She's seventeen. I've had three go through that age, she's hungry. And she's looking at it like it's manna from heaven, but she wouldn't do more than sip a little of the broth off the soup and guzzle all the water we gave her. I don't know what's wrong."

"I'd let it go for now." Linda suggested. "I didn't have a chance to really dig into the file LA sent me but it looks like she has some neurological condition that she was being treated for. I wouldn't want to make one thing worse while trying to solve another. Agent Hotchner will be here in about an hour, so long as she's safe until then I'd let him handle it. Right now we need to save the other girls."

Sheriff Cox nodded. "I can work with that. So, uhhh…" He followed her back to the work table where they were setting up for the raid. "What's this Hotchner guy like?"

"Don't know; never met him. But he's the unit chief for the BAU."

"The what?"

"Behavioral Analysis Unit, they go after the real freaks, serial killers, hard core crazies. The Tommy Killer, The Vampire of Sacramento , The Blue Ridge Strangler, The Unibomber, The Boston Shrapnel Bomber, Jeffrey Dahmer, John Wayne Gacy, Manson himself, you name it."

Oh, great. "Badasses then?"

"They say only the best make it to the BAU. Personally I'll either stick with CARD or try Organized Crime. At least the guys in the cartels are sane."

About an hour later, after the raid had gone down and everyone was on their way back to the shelter or hospital or what have you, the Sheriff stopped by the station to check in with everything else that was going on. The shitstorm was in full fury at that point, he had politicians calling, the press massing outside, and yes, some of the local Baptists were starting to come out to protest. In addition he had a flock of girls needing medical care and shelter, a number of other suspects to round up and a crime scene to manage.

From now on he was turning off his phone on Sundays.

* * *

In the middle of all this a kind of ripple went through the room. The kind of ripple you got when cops all sort of stiffened up and straightened up their uniforms and got all tight in because the boss had come around and you needed to look sharp and make sure all your ducks were in a row. Now he was the boss for most of these folks, and Linda was the kind of relaxed get-it-done sort and all of the State Troopers were out on the crime scene so who the hell was everyone straightening up for?

One look at the front door and it was easy to tell. The man coming in looked like he stepped out of an FBI recruiting poster, or maybe one of the old comics of the 50's. While Linda and her people had shown up dressed to work, looking like any city cop, different only by the letters FBI on their windbreakers, this guy practically screamed 'I am an FBI agent'. He had the build, he had the ramrod straight posture, he had the navy blue suit, white shirt and red tie, and he had the command presence that took over the room. And when he took of his dark glasses he revealed cold, grey eyes that could probably stare in to hell and not flinch.

So the only part that surprised him was the calm, gentle voice on the man. "Sheriff Cox? I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner. We spoke on the phone?" He said as he offered his hand. "This is our Media Liaison, JJ Jareau." He introduced the blond woman who had come in with him.

His hand was accepted, "Pleasure to meet you, anything we can do to help; my men are at your disposal."

"I'm…not actually here on business. Jason Gideon is heading up my team; they've already connected with Agent Yamamoto and are assisting her. She suggested that Ms. Jareau could be of better help here."

"Media Liaison, does that mean you can corral that crowd of reporters out there?"

"That's what I do." She replied with a smile. "I just need some desk space."

"We can do that." He gestured one of his men over to show her where to set up."

"My business here is personal." Agent Hotchner said, offering a file with the same custody papers he'd faxed. "I'm here for Milly."

"Right this way." Sheriff Cox showed them to his office. "She hasn't gone anywhere, she won't eat, she hasn't spoken to anyone, and she's just sitting there. I didn't know what to do with her. She just won't stop rocking."

Agent Hotchner looked through the window in the door and frowned. "It's called stereotpy or stimming. In individuals with Sensory Processing Disorder it's supposed to calm the nervous system by reducing input, like covering sound with static."

"So she does that a lot?"

"No, according to her file, not in years. It's not a good sign. I know you're busy but I may need some assistance…"

"Sheri here is my office manager. I'll have her stick close for a bit."

"Thank you." And with that Sheri came out and he went in.

Sheriff Cox sighed. At least one girl was making her way home today.


	49. Part 6: Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

**Livingstone County Sheriff's Office  
901 Webster St  
Chillicothe, MO  
01/15/06**

**Hotch**

On the flight over Hotch had suggested that either Morgan or Gideon come to the station to talk to Milly Bennett, since they had both met her in the past. But Morgan insisted that they hadn't really hit it off that well and Gideon insisted he'd learn more at the crime scene that would help. Elle, being their sex crimes expert, headed off to start interviewing the girls, and he'd left Reid behind for being too close and a risk for compromising the case that was being assembled. With JJ taking care of the circus out front, that left him.

Well, he _had_ volunteered.

Just from the doorway he could see the damage done in the relatively short time Milly had been missing. According to all pictures and accounts Milly Bennett had been a healthy young woman. At 5' 11" and 152 pounds she'd possessed a sturdy yet healthy athletic build. She spent more hours than average in athletic activity and between the family housekeeper and the nutritionists at Galois House ate an extremely healthy diet, all of which had left her skin and hair with a healthy glow. She was successful in her profession, a profession geared toward both men and people much older, and she possessed the competence and confidence that went with that achievement, as well as a naturally dominant personality. She had learned to control the physical effects of Asperger's Syndrome during her years in Galois House, much the same way Reid had, so you didn't even notice unless you observed her closely and knew what to look for.

The young woman sitting in front of him was very nearly the opposite in every way. She'd lost weight, and not a little, the sharpness of her cheekbones, her collarbones and the bones in her wrist showed that she had lost a good forty pounds or more, and nearly all of that body fat. Her skin looked sallow and unhealthy, there were dark circles under her eyes, and from what little of her hair he could see it look somehow not right. From the reports he'd received, even though she'd been aware and daring enough to know that attacking the deputy would get her location into the computer system where she could be found, ever since she'd been remote and disengaged and even now she was clearly lost in what had to be the safety and comfort of her own mind, utterly oblivious of her surroundings. And the rocking indicated that her nervous system was very nearly overwhelmed. She hadn't been broken, not if she could still do what she did to get help, but he could tell she was right on the edge. Another week at most and they would have lost her.

Now it was up to him to start pulling her back from that edge. He remembered the advice Gideon and Dr. King had given him, speak quietly, calmly and with confidence. Minimize the amount of emotion in the room. Don't lose your temper at all, even at others, the energy will overwhelm her. Don't expect her to make direct eye contact, if she's looking in your direction she's paying attention. Don't worry about looking smaller or less imposing, she's always found safety around big men and are comforted by their presence. And show her the respect of an equal, at least at first, it's what she was used to when the world was right and she was safe. So to that end he sat on the corner of the desk facing her and kept his voice as gentle as she could. "Dr. Bennett? I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner. I know we haven't met, but I'm hoping Dr. Reid mentioned me." She turned away from the window, her eyes fluttered over him before they focused on the knot in his tie and she nodded. "I'm afraid Dr. Reid couldn't come out without risking compromising the investigation. We have to make sure these people can't hurt anyone else. But I'm here to help in any way I can." She trembled, but nodded, carefully. "All right, they've been calling me Mr. Hotch these days. May I call you Milly?"

She nodded again. "I want to go home." She said in a voice barely more than a whisper.

Inwardly Hotch contemplated murder. This was a woman who was lecturing at a major university six months ago. "I'm sure you do. Right now the plan is to take you back to DC…"

She trembled harder and shook her head, "No, I want to go _home_."

"…where Stephen and Spencer and Thom are waiting for you." He watched as she seemed to almost start to cry, her eyes closing a long moment. "What's wrong?"

"I need to go _home_. " She said again.

"You don't want to be with your family?"

She shook her head again. "I…I need to go back to the House."

For a moment he was worried. The house in Pasadena had been sold and if she was starting to fixate…but then it hit him. "You want to go back to CalTech?" She nodded, eagerly. "But your family is in DC. Why?"

"I…I… Dr. King…"

"You want to talk to Dr. King." She nodded again. "Would it help if I got him on the phone?" She nodded again. "All right, hold on a minute." He got up and stepped out of the room. "I need to make a call I can pick up in there." He said to Shari. "But I need to be able to listen out here."

"Sure thing. This way."

She led the way to her desk and within moments he had Dr. King on the phone. "She's more interested in going back to CalTech than in seeing her family." Hotch told him after explaining the situation. "She's clearly in distress but I don't know how to go about finding what's wrong."

"I'll see what I can do." Dr. King replied. "Let me talk to her."

Hotch went back into the office and handed Milly the phone. By the time she was finished with her shaky "H…hello?" and Dr. King's greeting he was back at Sheri's desk, listening in. "I want to go _home_." Milly was saying, her voice filling with emotion at last. "I need to go _home_, please Dr. King! I need help, please!" By the end he could hear the sobbing.

"Shhh, Milly, the boys are all out in DC now. They're waiting for you. Why do you want to come back here?'

"They're all _normal_ out here! They don't _care_ and they don't _understand_. They think it's all in my head! And it hurts, it _hurts_ and I can't take it anymore! Please!"

"Shhh Milly, just breathe. Where does it hurt?'

"Everywhere! I just want someone to make it _stop_! Please!"

"Milly…Milly…shhh…breathe, all right. Now I've been working with Agent Hotchner there…shhh…just like I do with the people from USC, all right. Now he is trying to understand and he can and will help you but you have to show him and tell him what's wrong and then he'll get help and fight for you if he has to. All right?" She was still sobbing on the phone. "He's been listening and now he's going to come in and you need to show him where it hurts, okay?"

Hotch took that as his cue to head back in there, Sheri right behind him. He found Milly standing at the desk, stiff and shaking like a tree in a stiff wind. "Easy." He pried the phone out of her hand and put it on speaker. "I'm here." He said to Dr. King. "Milly, will you show me where it hurts?"

Without a word she pushed up one long sleeve to reveal a rash on her skin. It was inflamed a bright ruby red and covered with tiny yellow blisters. Shari reached over and gently pushed up her other sleeve to find the same thing. "It looks like poison ivy." She said.

"Okay, poison ivy in an individual with Sensory Processing Disorder can lead to extreme distress." Dr. King called out. "You need to take her to an ER and have it treated very aggressively, even if they say it's a minor case."

"Anything specific I should ask for?" While he watched Shari had been gently unbuttoning Milly's collar, revealing more of the rash. "I think she may have it everywhere."

"We usually insist on a six-day cortical steroid pack as well as a course of prescription strength antihistamines and three days worth of muscle relaxant. They don't like to treat that aggressively because it lowers the immune system, but if they're truly concerned then they can add a broad spectrum antibiotic. She's not allergic to anything. You have to get ahead of it or they'll start literally trying to rip their skin off to get it to stop, then you're looking at sedation and restraint until it clears up."

Hotch looked her over. "She's been biting her nails."

"What?"

"She's been biting her nails so she couldn't scratch." It was another good sign that she was still fighting, still trying to maintain control.

"Good girl. Milly, Agent Hotchner is going to take you to the ER now and make sure they take care of you. All right."

"Y…yes. Yes."

"All right. Call if you need me." He rang off.

Milly kind of turned toward Hotch…"I'm...I'm…s…s…sorry…"

"It's all right." It would be. He would see to it.


	50. Part 6: Chapter 50

**Chapter 50**

**Hedrick Medical Center  
Chillicothe, MO  
01/15/06**

**Hotch**

Thankfully Hotch and Sheri managed to get the now quietly sobbing Milly over to the local hospital without too much fuss.

Once there they found that the emergency room looked to be setting up for some kind of natural disaster. Sheri managed to get someone to stop and come over to help. "Is this one of the girls from the Home?" The doctor asked.

"Yes." Hotch replied. "I'm her guardian."

"You got here fast. I assume that's why." She nodded to the badge on his belt. "They're just sending all of them over, they're all sick. We have a bed over…"

"She's gonna need your private room Doc." Sheri interrupted her. "We're gonna have to strip her down."

"So it's not what the other girls have been showing?" The doctor asked, even as she was signaling for a private exam room.

"We don't know." Hotch replied. "What symptoms have you been seeing?"

"Obvious malnutrition but they refuse to eat; said they all have stomach cramps."

"She didn't say anything about cramps." Sheri said. "But she didn't eat, granted she might have been a little distracted."

Hotch stood back a bit as Sheri, the doctor and a couple of nurses guided Milly to the room, sat her on the gurney and started stripping off layers of dress. The first thing that came off was the cloth that she had clipped to her head and wrapped around her hair. The picture he had showed a head full of bright ginger curls, but now her hair hung very nearly straight. It was also so dry it was nearly fluffy, and the top layer at least was an unappealing shade of yellowish-gray. "What the hell?" One of the nurses asked.

Milly just dropped her head, the tears falling off the end of her nose. "They…they made…they made me…"

"It's all right." Hotch spoke up. "You don't have to talk about it now." He'd put Garcia on this one.

"I'll send Darlene over to pick up some bandanas in some real cute colors." Sheri said soothingly. "We'll braid you up some pigtails and you'll look just fine for your trip home."

When she came over to drop the first layer Hotch murmured, "Is that really a priority?"

"It will be. I've raised three girls, any of mine had to go out looking like that they'd have died of shame."

Right. Milly was down to some frilly white under dress. As they helper her unbutton it she revealed more and more bright red, blistered rash. Finally they helped her get it off and in just her under things it was obvious what was driving her so mad. The rash went from her knees to her collarbone and almost to her wrists. There was a clear dividing line around her panties, thankfully, but not one around the sports bra she was wearing. He looked over at the doctor. "Are you familiar with Sensory Processing Disorder at all?"

She looked up sharply, "My nephew. Is she tactile sensitive?" He nodded and her lips drew into a thin line. "I was going to treat this aggressively anyway, but now we'll really go for it, starting with an antihistamine which will stop the itching and help get her calmed down. The nurses are going to help you into a gown, hun, while I go get something to start making this better."

As the doctor drew the curtain and went to leave the room Hotch stopped her. "She told the Sheriff there was an incident when she first arrived, molestation, possibly rape. As I understand the Sheriff already took the man most likely responsible into custody, he's a local physician."

She sighed, noisily. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I'm not. I'm not working this investigation so I can't say which one. I will, however, ask that only female personnel…"

"Of course."

Hotch politely waited behind a curtain until they had her in a gown and tucked under a light blanket. It wasn't long before they had an IV going, and the first round of meds going into her system. He watched as she finally relaxed and started growing drowsy. When he judged her calm enough to speak he sat by the head of the bed. "Better?'

She nodded slowly. "It's going away. Thank you." She sounded so deeply relieved he was almost hurt.

"Still want to go back to LA?"

She shook her head. "I want my family."

"Let me see what we can do here." He found the house phone and dialed a series of numbers. "Reid, is everyone else there? Good, put your phone on speaker." He handed her the handset, and then he smiled as her tears turned to happy ones, and he could hear the cheering from here.

Not too much later the doctor came back in. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Better." Milly replied, "Kind of loopy."

"That's probably the drugs. How has your stomach been? Mind?" That last was to Hotch, who politely turned around so the doctor could lower the sheet.

"It hurts. I feel sick all the time."

"Uh-huh. You and every other girl there; some of them were talking about some pills they made them take, and some kind of green liquid when they were bad? They make you do that?"

"Yeah, they put something in the milk too."

"Any idea what?"

"I can try to find out." Hotch said.

"I'd appreciate that." The doctor replied.

Hotch stepped just outside the door and called Morgan. "The doctor thinks all the girls are ill because of some kind of drugs they were making them take. Any idea what those could be?"

"It would be easier to say what they couldn't be." Morgan replied. "This guy had a regular pharmacy going in here; he was buying stuff by the case and experimenting on them, keeping notes as he went. Let me talk to her."

Hotch passed the phone off and then went back in to sit with Milly. Somehow, still sick and in a hospital gown she still managed to look stronger now that the constant, maddening irritation was gone. "Is DC like LA?" She asked quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"Are the people there like they are in LA?"

"I think people are like people everywhere."

Her head rolled back and forth on the pillow. "They took my ring." She said quietly.

"I'm sorry." He told her. "I know it was a family heirloom. I'll have Morgan keep an eye out for it."

She shook her head again. "They said they were going to have it destroyed."

"I'm sorry." He had a feeling he was going to be saying that a lot for a time.

"They kept saying I was pervert, a slut and a whore for keeping company with two men and that I was wicked and evil for 'believing' in science and getting my PhD and teaching others to 'believe' in it too. I never understood that. I just kept thinking, yes, I'm in love with two men who love me back, but they're my age and we love freely and consensually. And I am gainfully employed and furthering the knowledge of all mankind. How is that evil and perverted and wrong while living off charity and keeping girls prisoner and torturing them is virtuous?" Hotch couldn't help it, he started chuckling. "It was like being down the rabbit hole, down is up, south is north, black is white. Finally I realized I was in a completely different culture, and their culture was at war with mine, only we never knew it. I was more of a POW than anything and I had to survive and fight to escape and not let them brainwash me."

"It's an apt metaphor in this instance, and if it helped…."

"I promised myself that I would survive and come back to fight them. But right now I really want to hear that we're heading back to our side of the line." She managed to tweak a hint of a smile.

"I'm sure…"

But then the doctor was coming back with a nurse. "Loperamide," she said, busying herself at the IV that was dripping fluid into Milly's arm. "Being on it longer than the recommended time even at the recommended dose causes all the symptoms we've been seeing."

"Can you treat it?"

"It's a mild narcotic, so the opiate antagonist Naldaxone should clear it from her system." She nodded to the medication the nurse was giving Milly. "Clear liquids until tomorrow, full liquids for a day, and then a bland diet for a day or two. After that just eat healthy with plenty of fiber. She'll feel like she has the flu for a few days as the drugs leave her system, aches and pains, tummy problems, maybe a mild fever, but once past that she should be fine. And if she finishes the Prednisone and Fexofenadine the rash will clear up in another two or three days, and then she'll peel like a sunburn. We're going to bandage the areas where the blisters broke because her skin is raw underneath and we want to prevent infection. I don't know if you have a wound care clinic in your area…"

"I'm sure we do." He replied. "But if she just needs help with bandages maybe a visiting nurse…"

"That would work; she could help with bathing until everything clears up as well. She is going to need treatment for the malnutrition and counseling moving forward."

"We've already assembled a treatment team back in DC. I can give you their names and I'd like to share your contact information with them." The doctor nodded her ascent. "When can we take her home?" He asked. "She won't be traveling commercial."

"Well, she is pretty dehydrated and with the meds we've given her today she's probably not all that stable on her feet. How about we keep her overnight and send her home tomorrow?"

"Excellent." The team would be assisting the CARD team at least that long. "Thank you." Just then Hotch's phone rang again, "Yeah Morgan?"

In just moments Morgan managed to sound a decade older. "The cadaver dogs just spotted on something in the woods.


	51. Part 6: Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

**Hedrick Medical Center  
Chillicothe, MO  
01/15/06**

**Hotch**

Of course they didn't go home the next day. They found the bodies of seventeen young women in the woods. And the living ones might not be as far from joining them as hoped.

Hotch ended up not spending the night at the hospital. Linda Yamamoto had shown up with two of her agents in tow even before they left the ER. "She's engaged to someone in your unit, right?" She'd asked.

"Yes."

"Well if what we saw out there is any indication she may be losing what little is left of her dignity tonight. I don't think she'd like that to happen in front of her husband's boss. Let me loan you a couple of people to sit with her overnight."

Good point. "All right, I'll go back to the hotel as soon as she's settled in for the night." By the time he got back to the room she was sitting up, more or less, and was slowly braiding her hair into pigtails. "Darlene brought those by?" He asked, nodding at the items on the table in front of her.

"Yes. Mmm, I'm almost too loopy to do this." She rested her head back against the bed a moment. "But I'd like to recognize myself in the mirror again."

"I assume they did that." Hotch could still remember when one of his aunts had cancer, how she had cried and cried over the loss of her hair, how deeply it had affected her self-esteem. He hadn't remembered that until Sheri brought it up, there was so much else going on. Not that Milly had lost her hair, but such a radical change, if unwanted, would have a similar effect, especially given results that were unattractive at best.

"No, they made me do it." She replied, looking at herself in the small mirror Shari had brought. "They said if I didn't they would send me back to The Cages and I just…I couldn't…" She crumpled up in remembered fear and distress.

Damn. "Shhh, it's all right. You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready." The Cages. Mental note to ask Linda.

After a moment she shuddered and came out of it. "He said I was the most beautiful thing, and I always would be to him." She sighed a little and looked so hopeless his heart ached. "I hope he was right about that."

Somehow Hotch knew exactly which 'he' Milly was referring to. "He was." He said, trying to give her some kind of hope. "One of the women who works with us, Penelope Garcia…" She nodded in recognition. "…does pretty wild things with her own hair. I'm sure if there's a way to help she'll find it."

Milly sighed, but also almost smiled. "I've been hoping I could find a way to make it look decent while it grows out. Dad never wanted me to cut my hair." After a moment she managed to rouse herself long enough to get the bandanna over her head and look in the small mirror. The braids and bandanna hid most of the color and you couldn't tell if it was curly or not. "There. I look like I'm going to Krav class. God knows if I'll ever do that again." She settled back and sighed. "I think I really want to do that again."

"Then you will." He replied. "It will just take time and effort to get there. You should rest now."

"Please don't go." She implored as he got up. "I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"I don't want to go back there. I can't do that anymore."

"You're not going back there." He tried to sound as reassuring as he could; it was an understandable if irrational fear. "No one here is going to let them take you."

"How do you know you can trust them?" She asked, earnestly. "How do you know this place is safe?"

Hotch sighed. The problem was he didn't think he could lie. If she was anything like Reid she'd spot it in a heartbeat. "I don't. That's why there will always be at least one FBI agent here until you're well enough to go back to DC. And that's why I'm not going anywhere, I'm just going to step outside and see when we're going upstairs, and you should rest."

Milly sighed. "All right, I just hope we can go home tomorrow."

"That's what they're telling me. I'll be right outside." He stepped out and sent a quick text to Reid.

_Surplus store in Quantico. Bandannas. Lots._

* * *

That was yesterday.

Once Milly was settled into a room in the hospital, once she's had her supper of broth and jell-o, which she found far too tasty for his liking, and once she was clearly nodding off Hotch left her in the care of the nursing staff and two of Linda's agents and headed back to the hotel for a few hours of sleep. In the morning there was a shower, a breakfast during which he got an update from Morgan that he wished he didn't have to hear and then he headed back to hospital just in time to encounter well organized chaos. It all seemed to be centered on three rooms, one of which was Milly's. "What's going on?" He asked the agents from the night shift.

"Don't know yet, sir." The agent replied. "She had a relatively quiet night…."

"Relatively?"

"About 4 am she said her stomach was hurting and a couple of the staff took her to the restroom down the hall. I honestly didn't ask. She seemed to be feeling a lot better when they put her back to bed though. Then this morning, near as I can tell some of the other girls started having some kind of attacks and then she had one about twenty minutes ago. She got pretty agitated and then she started turning bright red right in front of us. We called in the nurse and got out of the way."

Great. No point in asking why they didn't call, it just happened. "All right, you two are relieved. I'll put in a good word with Agent Yamamoto. Go get some rest." Almost as soon as they left the doctor was coming up to him. "I'm Milly Bennett's guardian. What happened?"

"Thank god." She shook her head and led him out of the line of traffic. "Early this morning some of the girls started having these high fever episodes. They're fine one minute, then they get agitated, say something's happening, next thing you know they're temperature is going up as high as 104, they're getting flushed, breaking out in a sweat, elevated pulse, saying they're getting light headed and dizzy. And roughly five to ten minutes later their temp suddenly drops back to normal. I have no clue what it is or what's causing it."

"Could it be drug withdrawal?"

"Possibly. Not from the Loperamide. But I saw the list of what they had out there, who knows what they were on."

Hotch sighed. "Unfortunately the one person who could get through those notes quickly enough is the one person I can't bring out. So what do we do now?"

"We don't have the resources to tackle this; we're sending all the girls to Children's Hospital in Kansas City, which means I have to get a judge in here to start signing transfer orders."

"Why not their parents?'

"You're the only parent here. I have four girls caught up in custody battles and the rest of the parents aren't speaking to us. They sent their daughters away to be trained to follow the Lord and that's what Pastor Carl was doing. We should never have taken them out of the school. Now if we're going to lead them into sin again we can just keep them." She sounded utterly disgusted with the whole sorry affair.

Hotch couldn't blame her for that. "It's been an ongoing problem with this investigation."

"Yeah, well what do I tell these girls?"

"Tell them…that sometimes God works in very mysterious ways and He'll help them find safe homes. At least it might give them some comfort."

"And that's about all I can do. Thank you for being a reasonable parent."

"Guardian, not parent."

"Close enough in this case." She passed him a clipboard full of forms a nurse had handed to her, "Any kids of your own?"

"One, he's just over three months. What is all this?"

"Well he's got a good father. Transfer orders. By virtue of having a reasonable _guardian_ your girl gets the first bus."

* * *

.

* * *

**Note**: This chapter has a previously posted cut scene over at the LiveJournal account associated with this story.


	52. Part 6: Chapter 52

**Chapter 52**

**Children's Mercy Hospital  
2401 Gillham Road  
Kansas City, Mo  
1/18/06**

**Hotch**

One night in the hospital stretched into a transfer to the nearest major city and the pediatric hospital there. Thankfully they had a number of excellent physicians certified in adolescent medicine, even Reid couldn't find fault with her care. Unfortunately that wasn't helping, no one could figure out the cause of the attacks. They had noticed that they were only affecting the older girls; the three pre-pubescent girls from the home were physically improving in leaps and bounds. They had been fed more calories than the older girls, if not in better quality, and so didn't have as far to recover from the malnutrition. They hadn't been dosed with Loperamide or kept borderline dehydrated so their internal condition was stronger, and they'd even had some school lessons so they weren't as behind as the others. But that didn't mean they hadn't been abused. "Cray Sherman was in charge of the little girls." Elle had told him. Linda Yamamoto had kept the BAU team to tasks that would help them build a profile, interviewing victims and witnesses, going through the reams of records, looking around private quarters. She'd had her people go through the actual places where the girls were held, so they wouldn't form pictures of their friend's wife suffering there. "He's your garden variety pedophile, right down to the pictures on his computer. When they aged out of his preferential range he passed them up to Carl Lakeworth."

"What did he do to them?" They were video conferencing, the team back in Chillicothe, him in a borrowed conference room in the hospital while Milly went through a thorough MRI.

"He was turning them into angels." Gideon said, mystically.

Hotch was used to this. "Can you be more specific?"

"Angels don't have bodily functions. They don't eat. They don't drink. And as a result they don't need the facilities. He was gradually training them to get their bodies to shut down."

"Why not just stop all food and water?"

"Because then they would die before they stopped. The way he was doing it they would linger in what he called 'an angelic state' for three or four days before they died, and according to him they would, quote, 'go to their Heavenly Father with a smile, for they were directly entering the ranks of the heavenly host.'"

"More like they were relieved their suffering was over." Elle pointed out. "We've already found seventeen bodies. Their only hope was to make it to eighteen when he would put them on a bus to home, have the other parent find them in cases of custody, or death. I don't understand why none of them tried to escape."

"Loss of agency," Gideon replied. "Most of these girls spent their entire lives dependent on the older males in their lives, they have no education, they have no job skills, they've never handled money, they have no clue how the outer world works. That can be very scary, better to stay in a familiar environment, however hard, than face the great unknown. Then Milly showed up. You can argue that the academic world is sheltered, but she has a degree, she's held a demanding job, handled her own financial affairs at least in the day-to-day, owned a car, lived in a city, and so on and she has the expert observation and problem solving skills common to the Galois House program. The outside world wasn't frightening, it was home and she wanted back in it so she observed and solved the problem."

"Why did it take her so long to get out?"

"It looks like that was the first opportunity she had." Gideon replied. "We're miles out in nowhere, this place locks down like a prison, the only time they leave is to go to church and the congregations were on the side of the Pastor. This was the first time she'd seen someone in a uniform to attack."

"Good." Inwardly Hotch smiled, smart girl there. Smart and strong, he was going to like having both of them in his 'family'. "So the girls kept by Cray Sherman are not having these attacks. It has to be a part of the experiments Carl Lakeworth was doing to get their bodies to shut down."

"Yeah, but what?" Elle asked. "Linda's people gave us a list of all the meds in the house, have the doctors there come up with anything that would cause this?"

"Not yet. Keep looking, it's not just Milly, this is affecting a dozen other girls."

And affecting them it was. Hotch had been almost afraid the first time he observed Milly having one. She was having them five or six times a day, which was actually better than most of the others who were having them up to a dozen times over and having longer ones as well. The staff attributed this to Milly having been there for less time, and having been in excellent condition before arriving at the home. Still, it was hard to watch.

"_The White Album_? Why _The White Album_?" She asked as he dealt the cards. "I thought _Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_ was considered their magnum opus."

"By many, true, but I don't think that one really captures the feeling of the times as well as _The White Album_." Hotch and Milly were playing Gin and talking. It was getting on in the evening. She'd spent the day going from test to test and talking with a therapist when she wasn't recovering from an attack. She was eating normal food now, her rash had progressed to the peeling stage, which never looked attractive but there was healthy skin underneath, and she was looking forward to starting physical therapy in the morning, all good signs. Granted she was still very tired most of the time and having trouble focusing and concentrating and having nightmares but overall she seemed in better spirits, notably healthier, except for the attacks. And Hotch was finding he enjoyed her company as much as he enjoyed Thom and Reid's.

"Here's another question for you. Why are all the so-called greatest albums of all time all recorded between 1960 and 1975? Do you think it's truly because that was the pinnacle of American popular music or is it just because most of the people compiling those lists are Baby Boomers who are reflecting on their collective youth rather than actually evaluating every album?"

"Hey, the sixties were a special time in music. I don't know if you remember…"

"I was born in 1988."

"Okay, I did not need to hear that."

"Granted, I always preferred modern jazz myself."

"And that is not right."

"Spencer likes classical and Thom likes stuff he can dance to. I never did understand that. Oh god…"

"Happening again?"

"Yeah."

One of the unusual symptoms was the sudden burst of anxiety that preceded the attack by a minute or two. It gave them a chance to prepare, but he hated seeing her that afraid when there was so little he could do. But he did what he could. "Just try to relax and breathe like they told you. In and out. That's it." He said reassuringly as she started to take deep, relaxing breaths. He rang for the nurse and lowered the head of the bed while she came.

"Another one?" She asked when she came in.

"Yes." While the nurse got Milly's vitals he went to get some towels from the now well stocked counter, some damp, and a couple of cold packs. He brought them back just in time, Milly groaned as her temperature suddenly shot up a good six degrees, her face and shoulders turned a bright russet red and she broke out in a heavy sweat. He knew that her stomach was cramping and her heart was racing and she could barely see. He put the ice packs on the sides of her neck at the collarbone, to try to cool the blood rushing to her brain and prevent damage, and then looked away as the nurse put damp, cold towels on her head and chest and turned on a nearby fan to try to help her get cool. The whole affair lasted a good ten minutes, during which there was nothing he could do but watch her body battle itself. Then as quickly as it came it subsided, leaving her soaked in sweat and chilled from the sudden drop. As the nurse helped her clean up he quickly changed the now sodden sheets and then they got her back into bed where she drooped, exhausted.

"I hope this stops soon." She admitted when the nurse was gone.

Is it wrong to be glad Haley went to her family that summer? Is it so wrong? "So do I."


	53. Part 6: Chapter 53

**Chapter 52**

**St. Alban's School  
Mount St. Alban  
Washington, DC  
1/20/06**

**Stephen**

If you're going to get pulled out of anything, Stephen thought, Spanish class ought to be your first choice. "What's going on?" He asked Mr. Bishop, the faculty advisor he'd been assigned to when he got here.

"Um, I've been asked not to tell." He said with a smile. "It's supposed to be a surprise."

"Is it my sister?" Stephen's heart sped up. Sure, they'd been told Milly was safe and was getting better, but she was in a hospital halfway across the country, who knew for sure?

"Ah, no questions. Come on, get your coat on." He led the way out to one of the school cars.

"We're going somewhere?"

"Yes."

They got in and took off, heading he didn't know where, he still didn't know this strange, closed in city well. "And you can't tell me anything?"

"Nope."

Well he wouldn't be acting like this if it wasn't a good surprise. "At least it got me out of Spanish class."

"You don't like Spanish?'

"I already speak French and I don't live in California anymore so I don't know why I have to?"

Mr. Bishop spent the next five minutes extolling the virtues of the Spanish language and why it mattered so much in modern American society. Stephen tuned him out in favor of checking out the neighborhood. Everyone built up here; it was like they'd never had an earthquake or something.

About five minutes in Mr. Bishop slowed to turn left into a parking lot, where the sign read _Georgetown University Medical Center_. Stephen's heart started beating wildly; it was all he could do not to jump out of the car. "Yes!" He practically yelled.

Mr. Bishop chuckled. "At least pretend it was a surprise. And don't plan to stay too long today either."

"It doesn't matter!" Nothing mattered! She wasn't dead! She was coming home!

Of course Mr. Bishop turned into the wrong parking lot and they had to go out and through some parking garage only to find out they should have parked there, but eventually they managed to find the way in and a place to park. Stephen almost ran to the door, stopping only because Mr. Bishop told him to slow down. Then he went up to the visitor's desk. "Give us some space to maintain the illusion of surprise?" He asked.

"Why? Just come on?" They could find her. How big could this place be?

Given that a map was produced, apparently big. He had a look, got his bearings and headed confidently in the direction of the elevators. "Why the rush?" Mr. Bishop asked. "You don't need to run."

"Yes I do." Stephen told him. "You don't understand."

"Okay, how about explaining it to me."

Stephen sighed. "My Dad just disappeared, all right? He and Sharon went out to this party one night, he gave me a hug and told me he'd see me later and that he loved me and then he never came back." Okay, he was not going to get all blubbery over this. "We buried a big box that everyone said was him, and I know it was but it's still kind of weird, even now."

"I can understand that."

Yes, right set of elevators. "Then my sister took me to school one day and she gave me a hug and told me she'd see me later and that she loved me and then _she_ never came back. And my Mom ran away and now she's in jail and _she's_ never coming back. Now I'm finally getting one of them _back_." Okay, maybe he was getting blubbery here. But what did Morgan say? That the strong ones weren't afraid to let someone see them cry?

"But not the other two," Mr. Bishop pointed out gently.

"It doesn't matter. As long as Milly's around it'll be okay." The elevator opened on the right floor. They stopped at the desk where they were pointed to the hallway on the other side of the building. Turn this way, then that way, and then there were voices up ahead…

"I really don't need to be in this thing. I can walk."

"And have dizzy spells. Be grateful they didn't keep you on the gurney."

He turned one last corner there was Mr. Hotch and…and…and…"Milly!" He ran over and he couldn't help it, he threw himself into her arms.

"Stevie!" It was her! She was real! She was alive! She was back! And she was hugging him just that kind of tight. "I told you I'd see you later."

He couldn't help laughing.

* * *

**Spencer**

He had been at the Hoover building in the city when word came that they had arrived at the hospital. Between the craptastic weather and waiting for the Metro and then having to wait for the Georgetown shuttle because the hospital didn't have a God damned Metro stop and then having to slide his ass across campus it took him a bit to get there.

It was still faster than having to drive in from Stafford. Thom was somewhere behind him.

Visitor's desk, elevators, nurses' station, this hall, that one. Finally. "Hotch!" Who was standing there talking quietly to another man in an overcoat. If Hotch was here that meant…

Hotch stuck his head in the door of the room next to him. "Hey. Time to head back, she has another visitor. She should be home by the week-end."

Spencer watched as Stephen came out a moment later with a huge grin on his face. First he stopped to hug Hotch. "Thank you for bringing my sister home, Mr. Hotch." He said quietly.

"You're welcome. Go back to school, we'll see you Friday."

Before he left with Overcoat Man, Stephen stopped. "You better take care of her." He said. "I think she needs you."

"You know I will." He watched Stephen go and then turned to his…friend. "Hotch, I don't…"

Hotch shook his head. "I'm just glad no one had to do that for Haley. Now tell me you can survive a night without your go-bag."

"Yeah, why?"

"Because as soon as we talk to the doctor; I'm leaving you in charge and going home for the night. I didn't expect to be gone this long."

They didn't expect her to be that sick. "Do they know…?"

Hotch chuckled. "Go say hello first."

Right. Right. Spence tapped on the door, all polite instinct, and then opened it enough to look around. Milly was sitting on the bed, looking tired and wan, looking off at nothing. But when she turned to look at him her eyes were the same fierce, brilliant blue as ever, right before …she looked afraid. Right before she blushed and turned away.

Uh-oh.

A heartbeat later and he was at her side. He gently cupped her face and got her to look at him. "Hey." He said quietly. "You are still the most beautiful being in the known universe. And you always will be." And with that her face crumpled and she burst into tears and tipped forward against his chest and into his arms.

Much better.

He held her, rocked her gently, let her begin to release the emotions that probably badly needed out. Eventually her tears finally slowed enough. "I kept hoping you would say that. They made me…they…." She made some strangled noise like she was in pain and sobbed harder.

They had been talking on the phone every night, but that was not the same thing as seeing her condition for himself. Damn the rules that kept him away from the case because he was her fiancée and a defense lawyer could say he contaminated the investigation for being family. And damn the rules that kept Thom from traveling out-of-state. "Shhhh. You don't have to tell me until you're ready. It's over. It's over."

"It's not. I look like a fright, I'm still sick…"

"All surface stuff, love; we'll fix it. And we'll figure out what's wrong and fix that too."

She shook her head against his chest. "It's not. It's not." She sobbed. Then…"It happened again."

He held her tighter. Damn it. Damn it all straight to fucking hell. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I'll find a way to make it up to you, I promise."

"I'm just scared! What if something really broke this time?"

Oh. Unlikely, but she was so sensitive in places, the pain must have frightened her deeply. "We'll have them check on that while you're here. That can be fixed too."

She sobbed for a little while, then. "Just tell me it's safe here."

"It's safe here. It's very safe here." He insisted. "Hotch told me about the POW thing, well done. Did that lead you to the idea of using a burst attack on the deputy?"

"I figured if I threw my whereabouts into the data stream you'd be able to find me. That was the only reason why you weren't there already."

"Yeah." He leaned back a bit to look at her. "You're not afraid?"

"Not of you."

With that he leaned down and kissed her. She tasted of medicine and milkshake and something deep and rich that was just her and that made his body remember and sing again. When the kiss broke he pressed his temple against hers. "I was scared too." He admitted in a whisper.

Then the door opened again, "Peaches?" Thom asked.

"Thom!"

Next thing he knew she was in his arms. I have them, he thought, we're all here and safe and together. My family is whole again. Now I can rest.


	54. Part 6: Chapter 54

**Chapter 54**

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford, VA  
01/20/06**

**Spencer**

In the end they just sent her home.

They'd re-run every test they thought of, and came up short. They'd also run a battery of cognition tests against the annual baselines taken back at Galois House and determined that Milly was having trouble focusing, concentrating, and with short-term memory. That plus the fact that her body was having so much trouble regulating her internal temperature led them to think that she must have some kind of damage to her hippocampus, the part of the brain that regulated all that and more. They couldn't find any damage on the MRI scans, but they admitted it could be at the microscopic level.

And it was slowly but steadily getting worse.

Brain damage; the very thought of it terrified them. Their remarkable minds defined them, made them who they were, brought them together as a tribe. Just the thought was….impossible to fathom. So they didn't tell her, she didn't need to know that on top of everything else. Not yet. Instead they brought her home, or at least back to Hotch's basement, to rest and recuperate as best she could. She'd been ever so polite and grateful the entire time but when Hotch and Haley finally went up to bed and Stephen crashed for the night and the three of them were alone she sagged into the sofa. "Between us we have one and a half very good jobs and a small fortune." She commented. "And I still feel like we're homeless and couch surfing."

"They've been very kind to us, peaches." Thom pointed out from over at the wet bar. "We're safe here, and comfortable."

"I know." She moaned. "I know. And I'm not being ungrateful. I just…" She sighed as she tried to pierce the fog her mind had become. "I don't know."

"You don't have to know." Spencer pointed out as he dropped onto the couch next to her and almost instantly felt her arms go around him as she nestled into his frame. "You don't have to figure anything out tonight."

"I know. I just…" She sighed against him. "I just kept thinking 'this isn't permanent. This can be fixed. Just do this so they don't do something that _can't_ be fixed.' And all the while they were breaking me and I didn't know it." Spencer looked at Thom over her head, but his lover gave him a clear look of denial. Milly chuckled a little. "I _can_ still read lab results you know. Did you really think you could keep it from me?"

"I'm sorry." Spencer said, both in apology and sympathy. "We didn't want you to worry."

"Besides, peaches, they may be wrong." Thom pointed out. "It could just be starvation psychosis. You put some weight back on and your brain might start working back to factory specs again. I still can't believe their eating disorders expert had never heard of Keys' work."

"I know." Spencer agreed. He looked down at Milly, where she was still nestled in his arm. "He's right; this might pass in a few months. Give yourself time to heal."

She groaned a little. "I know. I'm just worried, that's all."

"Well don't just worry. Start fixing it; starting here." Thom came over with a tray with three big glasses of milk, a basket of cookies, a plate of pastries, and a bowl of hard boiled eggs. "You get the eggs and the fancy stuff, get you to start putting the weight back on."

She eyed the glasses of milk with trepidation. "I…think I'd rather have tea."

"Already put the kettle on and put a blend in the pot. We found this place you're gonna love. But have some food first."

Without saying anything Spencer reached down and took a goodly sip from one glass before claiming another. "Its fine, I promise. It's just milk."

She still looked wary, but she finally reached out and took a sip of the one he'd tasted for her. "It is." She sighed. "That's what milk ought to taste like. And I know…." Her mood suddenly changed, steel entering her voice. "…they said I was a spoiled princess who refused to drink powdered milk because it wasn't good enough for her, and that it tested fine but I'm telling you _there was_ _something wrong with that milk_."

Aaaand let's add mood swings to the list of symptoms, Spencer thought. "We actually believe you, you know." He said, extra calmly to balance her mood. "Not only did the other girls they could question corroborate your report that the milk tasted that off only suggests that Lakeworth added something during the rehydrating process, something he didn't want the women working there to know about, probably whatever was causing these symptoms. He did mix the milk himself, you know, he didn't let the cooks do it."

"No, I didn't know that." She replied. "But we still don't know what."

"Not yet."

She sighed. "Thank you for believing me, or maybe believing in me. I just…I didn't want to become what they wanted me to become, if that makes any sense. Except now I do."

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked.

"The women who worked there, you could tell that they fully expected that we'd all go home at some point. They kept going on about how we had to be good helpmeets and keepers at home, and kept in theory teaching us how to cook and clean and knit and sew and garden and all that kind of thing, which was both cruel and crap at the same time…"

"Sounds familiar though," Thom said, his face settling into dark lines. "My mama used to do the same thing with my sisters."

"And they kept saying I was broken somehow because I went to college instead of learning all this stuff. That was the crap part because I was starting to learn it from Marta and because even with what little I knew I could tell they were doing it wrong."

"What was the cruel part?" Spencer asked gently.

"We…well they, I wasn't allowed…were cooking for the staff and Lakeworth, not for ourselves. We got soup made from the scraps and…" Her face crumpled a moment. "…I'm pretty sure it was dog food."

"No wonder you're skinny." Thom said. "No more of that."

"They didn't let you cook?" Spencer wanted to know.

"No, or learn to sew or knit, nothing involving sharp objects around the staff. They said I couldn't be trusted, which was probably accurate, I would have attacked to get out of there. No, I got to work in the barn, shoveling up after the animals." She opened her hands, once delicate enough to calibrate the finest scientific instruments, now scabbed and calloused. "I think they wanted to humiliate me, but I kept thinking that it was okay, the animals hadn't done anything wrong and someone needed to look after them. Just because their owner was a monster that didn't mean they needed to…to…" She'd been sitting up to eat and drink; now she crumpled again and curled in Spencer's arms.

"Note that for the therapist, brother bear." Thom said.

"You don't have to say anything right now." Spencer told her gently.

After a few moments Milly recovered. "And there was relatively clean water in the barn." She went on. "Given that we were given approximately 24 ounces of liquid a day I drank all I could when no one was looking. Granted I earned myself a diaper that way…"

"I beg your pardon?" Thom asked, surprised.

"We were only allowed two bathroom trips a day. But I was trying to stay hydrated at least so, you know, more than that. They caught me back behind the barn at one point, and after that I got to wear Depends; probably for more humiliation." She just shook her head. "It was like Sharon, they kept saying I was the one who was twisted for having to go, and I kept thinking 'I'm not the one torturing young women. This reflects on you, not on me. All I'm trying to do is pee.'"

"Exactly," Spencer agreed.

"I just…" She smiled a little, and turned a bit pink in the cheeks. "I didn't say anything to Mr. Hotch because I didn't want him to laugh. But I kept thinking I was a POW."

"He said something about that." Spencer pointed out.

"But not just any POW, I…I tried to think of myself as a royal captive, captured in a war with another kingdom, another culture, and they were hiding me in with their native captives so…so my retainers couldn't find me."

"Princess in the tower?" Thom asked, not trying to hide his smile.

"At first, but you know we tried to whisper, at night, when the watchers were asleep. And as I listened to the other girls, I started to realize that they had no concept about the outside world…call it our culture…at all. Most of them were actually victims of rape or molestation. Their culture blames the victim, and so they were the ones sent to prison."

"That true brother bear?"

"From the investigation reports I've seen."

"These girls had never run wild, they'd never run at all." Milly continued. "They had no clue about anything outside of their homes or their small communities. I tried to tell them about life in our world, LA, college, work, whatever I could but they didn't believe me. All they knew was that our culture had to be a horrible place because all their life they'd been told that and now they were being hurt in their culture so ours must be a thousand times worse. And I must have been sent to tempt them or something."

"Stockholm syndrome," Spencer pointed out. "It sounds pretty bad."

"Finally I remembered one of those pictures that people send around the net, you know, spamming their friends. 'I'm not a princess, I don't need a rescue. I'm a queen; I've got this shit covered.' Well, not so much queen, but I kept thinking Galois House, you know." She laughed a little.

"Well they always did say we were supposed to take over the world." Thom pointed out, "Best and the brightest, literally. And you still are the only Lady of the House"

Milly nodded. "That was when realized that while they were just as undeserving of abuse and deserving of freedom as I was they didn't have the agency to help themselves. I did. I had a fortune and…knights and…a 'royal' education and I was a member of the High Queen's church and...All they were doing was sitting there waiting for their fathers or a Prince to come rescue them, even when they were home. Princesses, while a…a..."

"Baroness." Spencer suggested

"Baroness, thank you, has more agency. She helps rescue the princesses; she doesn't wait for them to help rescue her. It was the Honor Code all over again, asking them to help me would be taking an unfair advantage somehow; I had to be the one to help them. Once I realized that trying to kill a Sheriff's deputy to escape seemed like an entirely viable option."

Thom chuckled. "You weren't really planning on killing him, were you peaches?"

Her mood shifted again. "I aimed a burst attack act his nose." She told her old sparring partner, anger entering her voice. "When I tried that on you once, I blackened both your eyes through four inches of padding. If I'd been healthy the coroner would still be picking bits of nasal bone out of his frontal lobe. Granted if it hadn't been for the itching I probably wouldn't have been that…mad. I would have pulled the punch and I wouldn't have been arrested."

"How did you end up with poison ivy anyway?" Thom asked gently before Spencer could stop him.

For a long moment Milly just sat there, shaking. Spencer groaned to himself, this could not be good.

* * *

.

* * *

**Note: **There's a video link under the top post of the LiveJournal account associated with this story for anyone curious about the nature of a burst attack.


	55. Part 6: Chapter 55

**Chapter 55**

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford, VA  
01/20/06**

**Spencer**

Milly shook in Spencer's arms for a long moment. Thom looked over her head at his lover and mouthed _Bad?_

All Spencer could do was shrug in reply.

Finally Milly spoke up. "He…he said he'd stick Mae in the Cages if I fought." She said in a small, almost broken voice. "She was only _eight_. I couldn't…."

"No Baroness would." Spencer remarked, rocking her gently. He lifted her wrist to look at the scars there, no more than a couple of weeks old. "I'm guessing there were handcuffs involved." She nodded against his chest.

"Are you telling me that one of those bastards cuffed you, stripped you down and rubbed you all over with poison ivy? And they threatened a helpless little girl to get you to comply?" Thom asked. She nodded again and he looked up at Spencer, anger simmering in his eyes. "This is why Mr. Hotch told us to stay here. I might have had to borrow your gun. That was dammed noble of you peaches. I just can't see why they did it."

"Sharon," Spencer said quietly.

"Well that is kinda the answer to everything these days," Thom pointed out.

"No. Milly's Sensory Processing Disorder was a big part of why her marriage first started to fail."

Milly shuddered. "He said I was just trying to manipulate my mother, that I was making it all up and he was going to prove it. When he came back to wash it off he said he was going to leave me there all night and if I was crying in the morning from a little old case of poison ivy he'd throw me and Mae in the Cages." She shook even harder with the potent memory. "The next morning I'd detached so far…. All he said was that he'd known I was faking it all along."

She sounded too remote, too hollow. Spencer squeezed her tighter to get her back in her skin. "I'm impressed. That took a lot of strength."

"I keep wishing I could wash him off my skin."

"I don't think you can get rid of the memory that way." Spencer said. "But the skin is the largest organ in the human body and yours has been through a lot. You should be extra indulgent to help promote healing."

Thom smiled. "Stop talking around the bush brother bear."

Spencer smiled a little sheepishly, they knew him too well. "Okay, every time I come back from a case I have to grab a hot shower, at least, and change everything before I can relax. It's like…It's symbolic of washing the case away, the…the bad energy or something. I freely admit I've been thinking about getting you into a hot tub to start…soaking it all away ever since Garcia called."

"Which explains why you bought all that bath stuff," Thom replied. "You and that tub! Any tub! I swear to god you are part amphibian." He got up to make tea.

But Milly was smiling. "That sounds like a wonderful idea." She said. "Did you remember to pack my robe and pajamas? Can I take my tea and some of this stuff in there or is it against house rules? And is there a way we can continue this conversation?"

Thom and Spencer looked at each other and sighed. "Sharon cleaned out everything you had at your house before we got there." Thom admitted. "I'm sorry."

"So am I." Spencer replied. "But we've been trying to replace what we could…."

But Milly just closed her eyes and sighed. "It's all right, it's just things; stuff. I figured she would someday. That's why I tried to keep the most valuable things at the House. I assume Grandmother Millicent's wedding dress…"

"Yeah," Thom said quietly. "But I have the sketches; we can make a copy…."

"A copy wouldn't be the same. I think I'd rather something in that style, to honor her without pretending."

"That we can do," Thom said confidently.

"They destroyed her ring." She said, some sadness edging into her voice. "Agent Yamamoto said it had been melted down by the time she found the jeweler they sold it to. I…I don't think it would be right to copy that either."

"Okay. What do you want?" Spencer asked.

"I'm going to have a new set made." She replied, "Three of them, for a wedding and three more for…engagement or something." She smiled then, fully, a bit of her old self peeking through the pain. "Royal family crest?"

Spencer blinked at that, "Ravensworth Castle."

"Hmmm?"

"Oh, I did a little digging into your Grandmother Millicent's background. Turns out she was from a branch of the Liddle family; they were the Barons of Ravensworth Castle in England. It's a ruin now, something about mining and subsidence. There is still a Baron Ravensworth, though."

"Yeah, I don't think I'll go knocking. There is a bit of romance to the idea, but I think we should keep it between the three of us."

"I think it matters though." Spencer frowned. "I think there's a deeper meaning here."

Having finished her eggs Milly was now nibbling on the pastries. "How much medieval reading have you done while I was gone?" She asked.

"Remarkably little," he replied. "No, I think we can turn this into something healthy, for all of us."

"How so?"

"Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor."

Thom brought the tea over as he started getting it. "But it's never been 'Once Galois always Galois'. We grow out of our House."

"Exactly, we're the first ones to leave Galois House and not transfer to a different house. So maybe we should form our own house." Somehow he never thought he'd come up with something this…important sitting cross-legged on the couch in Hotch's basement in his pajama pants and an old FBI t-shirt with a mug of tea in his hands, but there you go. "And it relates back to something you've been saying, Milly, about POW's and different cultures. 'I just didn't want to become what they wanted me to become, if that makes any sense. Except now I do.' Isn't that what you said?"

"Yes, I was thinking that." She admitted, quietly. "But then I remembered what Dr. King said. He said don't try to live up, or down, to a bully's expectations, or try to do the exact opposite to spite him, it will never work. He won't even notice and if he does he'll still see you through his preconceived notions, you will never change his opinion. Instead live up to your own expectations, and be as happy as you can, that will irritate him to no end, and so that alone is the best way to get revenge." She sighed down into her tea. "I guess what I decided is that from now on I plan to savor as much of our culture as I can, and if it overlaps with theirs, well, so be it. I'm just not sure how to define that, it's not everyone vs. Galois House, like I was thinking, or even everyone vs. CalTech, it's greater than that."

"Yes and no, peaches." Thom argued. "We're young, liberal, well-educated, well-employed and living an alternative lifestyle. I'd say about 25% of the country actively hates us. And another fifty percent doesn't understand us and can't or won't try. That leaves maybe a quarter we can actually safely co-exist with. So maybe it _is_ everyone vs. Galois House."

"No, not everyone," now it was Spencer's turn to argue, "you just said twenty-five percent…"

"I was being generous."

"…the point is that it's not everyone. And even if it was it doesn't matter at least not for you right now, love. Are you really up to interacting with the greater culture?"

Milly just chuckled. "I'm lucky I'm making it through this conversation."

"Exactly, I'm saying let's define our House, House culture first, and then see where we fit. That way if we don't we have a…a place to come home to, in the metaphoric sense."

"We define? As Full Members?" Thom asked.

"Yes." Spencer replied. "We're the ones who will be living there. And then we can open it up to Social Members, being…anyone from the Galois program who chooses not to go to another House but rather to leave the University for the public sector."

"Which would include NASA and the JPL," Thom nodded. "To serve their country with honor. Patriae cum honore ad serviendum. You might be on to something here brother bear. It might get more people to come on out where our God-given brains can do the most good, knowing that they can get a hot meal with friends who understand them when they need it."

"People who listen and try to understand," Milly said, thoughtfully.

"Hmmm?"

"Something Dr. King said about Mr. Hotch, he would listen and try to understand. And he did. That has to be the other criteria for Social Members, even if we don't tell them."

This would encompass his entire team, his Mother, Stephen, maybe Haley, and everyone else in their extended family, even the CARD teams. "Agreed." Spencer said. When did this become a House meeting?

"Agreed," Thom replied. "Got a name for our house yet?"

"Ravensworth," Spencer told him, "in honor of our Baroness. And I like your motto."

"And we'll need a crest." Milly added. "I think I have the energy for that at least. And I will have rings made up, one for Stevie too. He'll be tickled."

"I thought you were talking engagement rings." Thom gently reminded her.

She shook her head. "No, I want to go from housemates to married now; I don't want to be set apart." She smiled again, thankfully, "Unless it's as the Baroness of the House." She was quiet another moment. "Patriae cum honore ad serviendum. It does kind of help put it all into another perspective. How many girls did we get out of there, nineteen?"

"Total, in the entire search?" Spencer managed a smile of his own, "Two hundred and sixty-seven."

She blinked, surprised. "Well, I had no idea. I'm dammed glad none of us gave up. And I never lost my honor. All right," she slowly got up from the couch. "The Baroness is going to go have a bath and go to bed."

"There is a bottle of milk bath in there you might try." Spencer told her. "And some oatmeal soap and some honey body butter stuff that might be good after. And Stephen remembered your favorite shop in London, your robe is behind the door along with a shower cap and you have pajamas and slippers in there as well."

"And don't forget your tea and cake." Thom added.

She looked at them both and then bent and kissed each of them soundly. "This will not last." She told them sternly. "I will not be spoiled forever. But for now I am grateful and I very much love you both."


	56. Part 6: Chapter 56

**Chapter 56**

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford, VA  
01/20/06**

**Spencer**

Spencer took it upon himself to start the tub going, with a healthy dose of honey milk bath to make the water soft and silken. He lit the candles and even brought in a full mug of tea and a plate with more cakes. Yes, he thought, we're spoiling her. It's her first night home.

But Milly stopped at the door to the bathroom. "Could you…could one of you throw a sheet over the mirror in there, please?"

"Why?" He asked.

She sighed and drooped a little. "I'm trying to convince myself that it is all surface stuff, that I can get better, but right now it really looks like Sharon finally won and I just…I just can't look at myself. I just can't right now."

Uh-oh, this could be a problem. He stepped closer, pulled her in. "Why not?" He guided her into the bathroom and planted her in front of the mirror so he could see her body language as she looked at herself, the better to get an idea of what was really going on in her head. "What's wrong?"

"It's not me." She said in a voice that was starting to tear up. "I realized it the first time I looked in a mirror at the hospital, that's not the me I see in my head. It's just feels so _not...right_!"

"Shhh, we can fix it, all right? You'll heal."

"No, you don't understand. They almost turned me in to a boy!"

He could tell from the sound, from the look in her eyes that she didn't really mean it. It was the old fears planted there by Sharon coming back to haunt her, and understandably so. He had to try to anchor her back in reality. "They made you grow a penis?"

"No. You don't understand." She shook her head violently as if trying to shake the words free. Then her hands went to the tie on her robe.

He put his arms around her and stopped her. "What are you doing?"

For a moment she swayed in his arms, her head turned away from the mirror, unable to look at herself or at him. "I don't want to tell you." She admitted at last. "You don't forget."

"I'm…used to not forgetting horrible things now." He said. "Let me remember so you can let go."

She was quiet for a long moment. "They _looked_ at me." From the pain in her voice he knew she meant that they had taken her clothes. "They kept _looking_ at me the entire time I was there, every inch. They even made me…" She shuddered with the memory. "…open myself for them. Only they weren't looking at _me_, they were looking at a _construct_ that they called me and saying the most horrible, ugly things. And I kept telling myself that it didn't matter, what they said, what they…did, it didn't matter because you and Thom really knew me. You really see me for true. Except you didn't because even though you know my mind and my heart so well you never saw my body, and now it's too late. They had that and you didn't and now how will I ever know."

"It doesn't matter." He said quietly but firmly. "Your mind and your heart are all that matter. You can make the rest into whatever you want it to be until it fits the vision in your head."

"How do you _know_?" She met his eyes in the mirror then, all pain and quick anger. "You haven't _looked_."

"I can't." He told her. "Not until you're eighteen. I won't betray Hotch's trust, especially with all he's done for us. But I know you, love. I know you're strong enough to…to craft your body into whatever you want it to be. And whatever that will be will be beautiful because it carries your mind and your heart. And when I do look at you, I will see the truth of your intent."

"What if they were right? What if I'm supposed to look like this?"

"Do you want to look like this?"

"No."

"Well then?"

She shook her head. "You're talking internal states. I'm talking aesthetics."

Which ought not to matter but somehow did. "Well, you know we can get a female opinion. Why don't we ask Haley to help in the morning?"

"All right."

* * *

**01/21/06**

The next morning Haley came up from the basement all smiles. "I don't know what you all are worried about." She told the two boys, Hotch having taken Stephen on some errands to get him out of the way. "I would kill to have a body like that. She shouldn't change a thing!"

Uh oh.

Spencer and Thom headed downstairs and found Milly curled up on her bed in a tight ball. "I want to go back to CalTech." She told them.

"And that would be a fail." Thom announced.

"I do not understand these people." Milly continued. "And they don't understand me. How can I trust the advice they're giving me if they keep insisting on their pre-conceived notions? How can I trust their advice about going from this aesthetic state to an aesthetic state I'm comfortable with when they think this is ideal? Their answers couldn't be honest."

"Good point." Spencer sat on the bed across from her and sighed. Then he squirmed because something was poking into his backside. The culprit was, of course, his cell phone, annoying thing….wait a minute. "What if I brought a little of CalTech here?"

"How so brother bear?"

"Garcia is a Pageboy, remember." He opened his phone. "We need a big sister."

* * *

"Okay, truth is that most guys like a woman who wears about a size 10 or 12, seriously." Garcia was sitting on Milly's desk chair while the younger woman stood in front of her mirror in her underwear. "Most women these days think a size 2 is ideal. I do not understand why."

"Which is about what I am now," Milly admitted. "I used to be a size 10. I was happy at a size 10."

"Uh-huh. Now it is different for everyone but ten pounds per dress size is pretty much average. And I'm guessing that made you about a 34B…"

"36B."

"Which made you so average you were average. Right now you are…"

"Breastless."

"No, you are not. Here. Help." Garcia whipped out her measuring tape and had Milly slide it up under her camisole. "Right across the widest point…"

"There is no widest point." But Milly adjusted it anyway.

Garcia wrote down the number. "Okay, now go down to your rib cage." She wrote that number too and went back to her computer. "And now we calculate….yes, you are now 30AA. Which, I must point out is _not_ breastless. You have no body fat left, but you still have milk glands in there which is what makes woman boobs different from man boobs. You have breasts; you just need the body fat to fill them back out."

"Really?"

"Really Dr. Bennett, the numbers do not lie. And at your age your skin is so elastic, that if you take care of it, it will just snap into place and they'll be all high and perky, you watch. But the important question is, do you like your body right now?"

"No, I liked it the way it was. But they said…"

"Okay, rule of thumb, never listen to what an Unsub says."

"…and Haley said that I shouldn't change."

"Ah, right. See, Haley is a great person and an amazing mom but she is part of the dominant culture and in the dominant culture men and women don't communicate about this sort of thing. We are part of geek culture and in geek culture guys and girls _do_ talk and so we know that geek guys like their women strong and healthy and well-fed so they're not psycho and kind of voluptuous if they can get it."

"Like you?"

Garcia grinned. "Yessss. Let's just say I have no trouble getting dates with nerds. Remember, nerds invented Lara Croft, all muscles and boobs; and most guys I know, nerdy or not, still prefer Marylyn Monroe over a Victoria's Secret model."

"Then why do women think this is how you should look?"

"Because of the fashion industry. Look, when designers are making up their samples for the runways and the editorial shoots they use the best fabrics so it looks right. That stuff costs thousands a yard so getting a model who is two inches skinnier can save some serious bucks. But for some reason women don't understand that those are _fashion_ models, not life models or health models. And since they never communicate with the guys they think that that is how they're supposed to look"

"Ah. So it's the lack of communication that's doing it."

"Exactly. We _communicate_. Speaking of the skinny boy look why are you wearing what I assume is Reid's underwear. I know they bought you stuff."

"It's too irritating. It chaffed"

"Ah. SPD?"

"Yes. Exacerbated by…" Milly sighed and blushed and lowered it a trifle. Just enough to show…

Garcia winced. "Wax?"

"Electrolysis."

Now Garcia was shuddering. "And you stayed still for it? No, don't tell me, it's over. It's over. Just breathe and blow, breathe and blow." Once calm was resorted she continued, snagging a pair of underwear from Milly's drawer. "Ok, I'm guessing the problem is this seam right here, yes?"

Milly nodded. "That and it's been bloody cold."

That got some chuckling. "Okay, I assume you're not up to shopping yet…" Milly shook her head. "…so I will go see what I can find that is seamless on the bottom and a 30AA on top. If I can't find anything here's an idea for a back-up plan…."

* * *

**Spencer**

Garcia huffed as she came into the garage. "Okay, I cannot believe I wasn't able to find a single suitable pair of underpants in the DC area!" She complained. "I had no idea that women were getting the short end of the stick! And they charge us more too! Hey. Hey hey. Do not droop." She said to Milly, who was starting to. "Remember. We have a back-up plan here. Did Haley say we could use her laundry?"

"So long as we clean up," after getting the heads up from Garcia Spencer had dragged the guys out to the garage to set up a work area. They had laid an old sheet of plywood out on some sawhorses, covered everything with lots of newspaper and put a tarp underneath. Now Garcia was unpacking several packages of men's boxer briefs, all white, made of the softest cotton and unlike most women's underpants, made with flat, soft seams in places unlikely to chafe now very delicate skin.

"I got a bunch of these to go with." She unpacked packages of what looked like very flat bras. "Yes, they are for littler girls, but the scary part is that right now they should fit. The only other option was sports bras and they have lots of seams and are tight and I couldn't do what I wanted with them anyway."

"Ew!" Stephen shrieked as she held one up. "Okay, I love you sis but I cannot do this. Ew! Just ew!"

"Go play your video game then!" Milly said, shooing him back into the house.

Garcia was pulling out every color of fabric dye known, and of course her laptop. "You two unpack all of this." She had bags of dying supplies. "And you, first off I talked to Carlos, the magical wizard of hair for all of DC, he said that from what you described the good news is that it probably didn't do any damage to the root, so your hair ought to grow out just fine, but the bad news is that he can't re-curl it without it breaking off. But, he did say he could fix the color and condition and all of that and give you a really cute long cut to tide you over, so you'll still look fantastic, just straight haired."

Milly took all that in for a moment. "I'll…yeah; I'll give it a try as soon as I can get out in public for that long." She'd already had three attacks and one long nap that day. Spencer figured it would be a couple of weeks before she could get her hair done, at best.

"Good. In the meantime he sent stuff to use to help start the process." Garcia had two bottles of stuff for her. "Now, you sit there and pick colors and we'll make you the best undies ever, just you watch."

* * *

Later that evening Haley found Thom in the kitchen. "What are you doing?"

"Making a milkshake," he replied. "I'm going to go run it downstairs so I don't wake Jack, but there's no room in the freezer down there for the ice cream."

"And that's the whole milk you bought…"

"Yes Ma'am."

"How many calories are in that thing?"

"About fifteen hundred."

Haley was shocked. "You're not serious!"

"Yes, I am."

"That can't be healthy!"

"Indeed it is."

"You don't understand. That is my total calorie allowance for the day."

"I'm sure it is Mrs. Hotch. But it's also what they had her on in that hell hole that got her into this condition. Now to maintain her healthy weight and previous activity level she needed to eat 3,700 calories a day, more or less. Given her current state of emaciation and what that does to the metabolism she needs that plus another 30-50% to get back to where she feels happy and healthy. That means 4,800-5,500 calories, so she's going to need two of these a day for a while."

"Why would she want to get fat? She's so pretty now."

Thom looked at her evenly. "Not in our culture."


	57. Part 6: Chapter 57

**Chapter 57**

**Blue Dome Diner  
313 E 2nd St  
Tulsa, OK  
02/01/06**

**Spencer**

Another day, another Unsub, this one with a thing for leaving long winded notes with his victims. In code.

The team had landed late yesterday, checked out the bodies, the latest crime scene, started the board with all the clues they had, and finally had headed for a nearby hotel to catch at least a few hours before heading back. Now it was breakfast before heading back to the station to have at again. Thankfully the waitress brought coffee along with their menus. "They never have anything healthy in places like this." JJ grumbled.

"No, look, they have egg substitute for their omelets." Elle pointed to the bottom of the menu.

Morgan closed his menu and noticed the odd look on Spencer's face. "Okay, what is going through that head of yours?" He asked. "It has got to be deep."

"I'm thinking about solidarity and culture and fitting in." Spencer replied, honestly.

"Reid." Elle gave him The Look, made sure no one was listening, and lowered her voice just in case. "I know we never really discussed it but you fit in just fine. We don't care how old you are or how different your family is, so long as they're all safe and you're happy."

"It's not just the big things." He replied. "It's all the little things as well."

"Such as?"

Spencer sighed and lowered his voice again. "When Milly was in Georgetown the first doctor assigned to her case was the one who works with young people with…" He looked around just to be sure. "…alternative lifestyles. Not the right doctor for her issues but Thom is thinking of working with him when he doesn't have to answer to DCFS any longer. He wanted to be sure he was 'okay' though, and I was due for my annual physical…"

They all looked at each other. "What did he say?" Elle asked.

"That I'm about thirty pounds underweight but otherwise healthy."

Morgan laughed. "We could have told you that. You disappear when you turn sideways."

"So why don't you eat?" JJ asked. "You practically live on coffee and soda."

"So I can fit in with my neurotypical peers and not stand out. In case you haven't noticed you're all on diets." He sighed. "We all used to do it. They used to have a really early dinner at the House to compensate. But with the hours we work when we're in the field and you know, Milly can't anymore, so I'm thinking…"

"You should support your girl and do what you have to do to get healthy." Morgan said firmly. "Whatever it takes, we'll back you on it."

"Yeah, Reid, don't copy us." Elle added. "We're not…" She looked around. "…too young to drink anymore."

Just then the waitress came. "What can I get you all?"

"I'll have the veggie omelet; hold the cheese, with the egg substitute and a fruit cup instead of toast." JJ told her.

"Make it two." Morgan said.

"Three." Elle added.

Spencer made up his mind. So long as it wouldn't compromise a case, no more hiding. "I'll take the full special, over easy." He told the waitress. The full special: three eggs, two sausage, two slices of bacon, hash browns, toast and two pancakes, "With real butter and syrup, if you have it, please, and a glass of whole milk."

Elle waited until the waitress left, and then slowly began to smile. "But I reserve the right to make hollow leg jokes." Morgan started chuckling.

Spencer smiled back. "Deal."

* * *

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford VA**

**Thom**

Unfortunately things weren't going so well back at the ranch. With Stephen back in the dorm and Spencer out in the field Thom and Milly were trying to settle into routine. Ideally he would make her breakfast in the morning, head in to school for half a day, alone since she was out on medical for at least another month, help with the robotics project and make sure the prefrosh was alright, come home and make lunch, then take her to various therapy appointments in the afternoon before cooking dinner. Granted his original school schedule had kind of fallen apart, but they had finally received his transcripts and washed their collective hands of the whole mess.

The problem, he hated to admit it, was Haley.

The setup had worked out perfectly when it was just him. He'd stopped and had a cup of coffee with her on the way out the door, then said hey when he came in, and the rest of the time he was either out or down in the basement, heating takeout and pre-packaged stuff in the microwave. Not the best, but he was healthy as a horse and could process that kind of a diet for a few months. Milly, however, needed rich, calorically dense food of the best quality, and lots of it to truly heal, and that meant access to a real kitchen. And Haley was clearly not happy about sharing, she was always making comments about being tempted off her diet and how what they were eating just wasn't right, and how nasty it all was. And that was on top of the body shaming, the constant litany of self-hate that Milly, in her still somewhat fragile state, just did not need to hear.

"This really isn't working, is it?" Milly asked as he put their breakfast of toaster waffles and microwave sausage on the table.

"You tell me. What did the scale say this morning?"

"At least I'm stable. It's not like I'm dying or anything."

"Yeah, but you're not going to start getting better until you get some meat back on your bones. And, you know, Spence needs some too."

"So what are our options? Leave here? And what, you go to some foster home, I go to a residential treatment facility where they can tell me what a pervert I am for how I love and I can feel like a freak for being the only one there who wants to eat? Its a hundred and five days. I'll make it."

"Peaches…"

"I'll make it." She insisted. "And we'll…we'll find a big house and talk Spencer into taking a month off and then we'll stock it up and settle in and not leave until we all feel planted again. Then we can go out into the world, knowing we'll always be able to come home. Just…the House library needs a lot of cookbooks, you know."

Thom sighed. "Maybe we ought to start looking. It might be easier to know we had a home to go to. Spence could move right now and then we could follow when you get old enough."

"That's not a bad idea. In the meantime maybe we should get one of those electric frying pans, a spare burner, or maybe a toaster oven."

"Maybe one of those slow-cooker things," he smiled. "You don't have any appointments this afternoon; think you're up to a little shopping today."

"I don't usually have attacks in the afternoon; we can give it a try." She looked at her empty plate and sighed. "Damn it, I'm still hungry."

"I'll go make more."


	58. Part 6: Chapter 58

**Chapter 58**

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford VA  
02/11/06**

**Hotch**

It wasn't something he would ever admit out loud, but Hotch took perverse pleasure in watching Reid shovel his driveway.

Saturday was the day Reid and his family helped him out with his honey-do list as a way of saying thank you for letting them stay. Normally Hotch would either be out there helping them or out with his family or out doing something on his own, but Haley's sister Jessica was down with some minor surgery yesterday so she was there and he was here with Jack. And he really didn't want to have to strip off snowy boots if Jack needed him. Besides, it gave him a chance to catch up. "What is this?" He said as he settled into one of the chairs on the front porch.

"It's a spare brain." Milly said. She was bundled up in the swing, sipping on a large mug of hot cocoa and watching the shoveling taking place. When he asked she nudged the binder in question. "My occupational therapist said it would be a good way to adapt, and she suggested all the arts and crafts stuff to make it mine, as she put it. You know, I've always been very well organized, part of my gift or so they told me. I used to be able to lecture on cellular biology for an hour and not need notes. Now by the time I'm finished with my first morning attack I can't even remember what I was planning to wear that day."

"And this is supposed to help?"

"Yeah, well it has been. You know, write down checklists, keep a calendar, everything I used to do in my head only now it's on paper. That I need it is irritating as all hell but I have to admit, it's the handiest thing. Now I'm carrying it around the house with me all the time. See." She held up a neat tote bag. "I stashed the books I'm reading in here, stuff to help cool down if I have an attack, my knitting…"

"Knitting?"

"Penelope is teaching me. It's a socially acceptable form of stimming."

"Still having problems with that?"

"Yeah, and still having two to four heat attacks a day and still having nightmares and the heat attacks triggered by the nightmares and still have no short-term memory. About the only thing I'm doing successfully is gaining weight thanks to Thom."

"At least it's something."

They were quiet a moment, watching the snow, and then, "Are Lakeworth and his staff going to trial?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"They're having trouble finding girls to testify."

Milly snorted. "No one wants to testify against a preacher."

"Or let their daughters testify." Hotch replied.

"I'll testify."

"Sure about that? It will mean facing them, having to talk about what happened in a room full of people."

"I don't have any reason to be ashamed. The only went after me because I'm a minor from a different culture. That doesn't mean I deserved what they did."

"You're still looking at it that way?"

"It still applies."

* * *

**Nature's Table  
156 National Plaza  
National Harbor, MD  
02/13/05**

**Garcia**

The one good thing about working all those insane hours was earning all that time off. So on the first Monday when her new kid sister (who totally would have pledged Page House if she'd had the chance, Garcia was sure of it) didn't have any other appointments and the team was staying in town while Hotch was in court, she jumped at the chance to take said kid sister shopping. It was her first time out of the house since she got back and they were going to burn up some of her back-up allowance.

As soon as her body let her. "Oh, I knew this was going to happen." Milly groaned as she started peeling down to her last layer of clothing. "The first time I try to go somewhere that doesn't involve a doctor."

"Now just relax, all right. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out." Good, Milly was calming down and breathing. "Use your damp towel and go through your calming routine and you'll get through it. We can just sit here until you feel like moving again, we're in no rush."

"I know. I know." She groaned again as she started to flush.

"Want some ice water?"

"Please." She draped the damp towel around her neck.

Garcia slid out of the booth and went to the counter for two ice waters, reassuring the staff that her friend was fine and they'd be ordering food in just a little bit. When she turned back there was some older woman standing there chatting with Milly. "They're a wonderful help, they work so much better than a damp towel. I've made myself a dozen or more."

"I'm sorry, what?" Garcia asked.

"Neck coolers," the older woman said. Milly pointed to her neck which was now wrapped in some odd, wet scarf thing, the middle of which was plumped like a sausage. "I was just telling your friend that I make them and give them away, it's just some hydrogel in some scrap fabric, and I'm a quilter so I get lots of scraps. They're the perfect thing for a hot flash."

"Hot flash. Good description." Milly murmured. "It is helping, thank you."

"Oh, you're welcome. My niece used to get them that bad right after she had surgery."

"Surgery for what?" Garcia asked.

"Ovarian cancer; when you just drop into menopause like that it hits you that much harder. Well, I'm sure you understand by now." The staff called out a number. "That's our lunch. Good luck to you, dear. I hope you feel better soon."

They waited until she moved off, "Menopause?" Milly wondered.

"When was your last monthly?" Rule #1, never travel without tech. Garcia pulled out her netbook, and took about 3.5 seconds to get into the local network

"Back before Dad died."

"Back in November?"

"End of October. This thing really is helping." She was still flushed and sweating, but she did look a little more comfortable.

"I'll make you some more. Okay, symptoms: Hot flashes, defined as a feeling of heat spreading through your upper body and face, flushed appearance with red, blotchy skin, rapid heartbeat, profuse sweating, mostly on your upper body and a chilled feeling as the hot flash subsides." Milly gave her one of Those Looks as she slowly turned red. "Right. Night sweats, the same thing but waking you up at night?"

"Check."

"Headaches?"

"Check."

"Anxiety and depression?"

"Check."

"Trouble sleeping?"

"Check."

"Waking up way early and wanting to go to bed way early, which is, like, totally the opposite of most teens?"

"Check."

"Okay, loss of libido?"

"Check."

"And, you know, all of those can be attributed to what happened, but not this one, vaginal dryness and itchiness?"

"Check." Milly was just blinking. "Okay, how the hell does that happen? Because Thom has been saying that being too skinny would shut my cycles down…"

"Which it would, but it wouldn't affect you 'down there' as much." Garcia was frowning. "I wonder if they ever checked your hormones."

"Not a clue, but I'm going to see the doctor this week. I'll ask for the tests."

"I wonder what could have caused it?"

"I don't know." Milly said. She pulled out her phone. "But I know who to ask."

* * *

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI building  
Quantico, VA  
02/14/06**

**Spencer**

"I think I figured out our mistake." Spencer had assembled a small group for his experiment. Thom had brought Milly, Hotch was there of course, Garcia came because her kid sister was involved, Gideon came out of curiosity, and Morgan, Elle and JJ were there just to see the thing out if nothing else. They had all assembled in the break area. "Actually, I hate to say it, but it was Linda Yamamoto's mistake. Actually I can't really call it a mistake…"

"Reid." Hotch said.

Right. "The CARD teams are used to dealing with a specific type of Unsub, some variant of what most would call a pedophile. They expect them to act in certain ways, to treat their victims in certain ways…"

"So you're saying she went in with a preconceived picture of the Unsub." Elle said. "And because of that she missed something?"

"I think so. We asked her for a list of all the drugs in the house and she sent us a list of all the drugs in the house, specifically a list of everything in the house FDA approved for human use."

"Because a pedophile would only think to use FDA approved drugs or common street drugs."

"Exactly, whereas we're used to…well…thinking outside the box."

"Our guys get creative." Hotch nodded.

"Right. Experiment." Spencer had two glasses of milk made from powder. He also had a small mortar and pestle and had been breaking up some tablets that morning. Now he had Milly turn around and he laced one of the glasses with the powdered tablets. "Okay, this one first. Just a sip."

She sipped. "It's milk. Funny tasting milk, it might be about to go bad…"

"Is that what they gave you in there?"

"No."

"Okay, try this one. Just a sip."

This one was the laced one, and she reacted violently. "Oh! Oh god!" She literally jumped back from the glass he was holding, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. "That's it! Oh my god that's it! That's what it tasted like!"

"One sip isn't going to make you sick." He reassured her. "Even one glass won't. It was the large dose over time that did it." Hotch took the glass to sniff. "Um, Hotch, you would get sick off a glass."

"What is it?"

"It's called Synovex S, it's used by the meat industry to help put weight on cattle before slaughtering."

"Veterinary meds," Morgan nodded. "That's why Linda missed it. She would have thought those were for use on the animals."

"They had one cow and several cartons of this stuff." Spencer replied, "Far more than what was needed. I think he was giving each girl the dosage for a 400 pound heifer every morning."

"What's in it?" JJ asked.

"Hormones, specifically 250 milligrams of Progesterone and 25 milligrams of Estrogen. That's the equivalent of 40 birth control pills a day."

"It fits the profile." Gideon pointed out calmly.

"How so?" Morgan asked.

"That high a dose would overwhelm the system, cause the menstrual cycle to shut down. " Gideon looked at them like it was obvious. "Angels don't bleed."


	59. Part 6: Chapter 59

**Chapter 59**

**Georgetown Medical Center  
Department of Adolescent Medicine  
Pasquerilla Healthcare Center  
Washington DC  
02/15/06**

**Thom**

_No peaches, I don't want company. I don't want you looking at my bits until we're done. If you want to picture bits picture Spencer's. He's got a nice set._

_But…._

_I can handle this on my own. You go to your OT appointment and work on that binder. I'll be fine._

Brave assed words. Now here he was, once again sitting on the table. Only this time he volunteered. What the hell was he thinking?

No, he knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that Dr. Norcross was a specialist in dealing with men his age, and that he also specialized in working with young people who happened to be gay, so someone in a tribe wouldn't come as a shock. And he got a referral from Dr. King which still went a long way with them.

Dr. Norcross came in, introductions all around. "So, it's Dr. Hartmann?" Insert the required explanation about the Galois House program. "And you're a ward of the court." Insert required explanation about his crazy-assed family. "And you're only here for a consult?" Insert required explanation about foster kids and HIPAA laws.

And then hear something entirely new.

"I can understand that. So this is off the books for now, you'd be looking at getting this taken care of, what, end of April?" Dr. Norcross asked.

Holy shit, he understood! "Something like that." Thom said with a bit of a smile, "Maybe not until the first of June. Our little tribe is all planning to move in together, I'd rather wait until we were settled to have to worry about recovery."

"Tribe? Polyfidelity? You know I had a patient recently…"

Now Thom was flat out grinning. "Millicent Bennett?" Dr. Norcross nodded. "And you did Spencer's physical recently as well. Not that we were testing the waters or anything. "

"Understandable. At least you'll have good people at home to help you out. If it's not causing you any pain or problems right now I can certainly understand wanting to be in a stable living situation before elective surgery."

"Exactly, not that the place that we're staying in is bad or dangerous or anything, we're comfortable and the people there have been very kind to us. But they have a new baby, on top of the HIPAA issues."

Dr. Norcross nodded. "Understandable. Understandable. All right, may I take a look?"

"This is usually the part where people freak." Thom took a deep breath and dropped his trousers. And then something else new happened, Dr. Norcross didn't freak.

"Mind?" He asked as he pulled on gloves and when Thom nodded acceptance he got a little handsy, getting a good look all over. "How the hell did you survive puberty with that?"

"Carefully, you find other ways to express yourself. It helps that you have real understanding partners."

"I'll bet. Do you have some time here?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I'd like to call in a consult."

This introduced him to a Dr. Lloyd, a surgeon from Urology, who also got handsy. "It's reparable." Dr. Lloyd said. Then he went on to explain the procedure, which was going to take two separate surgeries, and from the sound of it was going to result in him being tied up in knots for weeks, and worse, on a catheter for at least two. But if it would repair it…

"So we're looking at fourteen weeks, minimum?"

"About that," they nodded.

"Anyone got a calendar?" Mental cross of the fingers…. "Okay, if we start the third week in May I can get it done before I go back to work. That's right after Milly's birthday, we should be good there."

"Then why don't we schedule it?"

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford VA  
02/16/06**

"Hey peaches." Thom drawled as Milly, Jack and Mrs. Hotch came in the back door, groceries in their arms. He went to claim Milly's bag and put it on the counter for her. "How was your appointment?" He hadn't gone with her for once. The robotics team over at North Stafford High had their big meet this coming Saturday. He figured he owed it to the school in thanks for giving him the freedom of his time, and it did mean a lot to the prefrosh, so he'd been working with them all afternoon, all the last minute bits. Thankfully Mrs. Hotch was willing to lend a hand and get Milly where she needed to go.

"It was fine." Milly said.

Thom looked over at her. She had the tone and the smile she used to get around Sharon, when she really didn't want to answer and provoke another battle. Given that today had been her weekly meeting with her court-appointed 'counselor', some social work intern with minimal training; that could not be good. "Oh?"

"Yes." Haley said, briskly taking off her coat and putting her bag down before turning to Jack. "Ms. Wilson said Milly was quite healthy."

"Healthy?"

"Yes. She said that it's not uncommon for young women to stop having their periods due to stress and that she shouldn't worry about it. If it doesn't show up in a year then we'll worry."

"A year?" One appointment; he missed one appointment and everything went straight to the shitter.

"Yes. She also said that Milly is at a perfectly healthy weight and that no one needs to be eating 5,000 calories a day, so no more food in the basement, for either of you." Haley gathered Jack up in her arms. "Now, as soon as I get Jack settled I'm going to start dinner for all of us and then we'll go clean out down there. What is your BMI anyway, do you know?"

Thom ran the mental calculations. "Twenty-five point four, I believe. But when the coach checked my body fat it was only 15%"

Haley turned to him shocked, "Fifteen percent!"

"That is well within the healthy range, Ma'am."

"Regardless, you're overweight and you're trying to get Milly there…"

"I'm trying to help her recover, Ma'am. BMI doesn't account for body composition."

"…and there is no need for it. You need to let the adults handle things, Thom, you're not a doctor. From now on you two eat up here, and no snacking during the day."

Thom was going to open his mouth when Milly caught his eye and lightly shook her head, just once. Right, the old don't argue with the grown-ups signal, "Yes, Ma'am."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Haley smiled. "Good."

* * *

While Jack was having his supper they had gone downstairs and hidden everything non-perishable they had before Haley had come down and cleared the ice cream from the freezer, and the whole milk and cheese from the small fridge. Now it was just past midnight and they were sitting in Milly's room on the floor, eating whole grain bread and peanut butter and drinking apple juice. "They make milk in juice boxes." Milly pointed out. "We'll get some; and some more bread and peanut butter for late night snacks."

"That's not going to be enough, peaches." Thom pointed out. He was bone-deep angry at the entire situation. Goddamn it, he was a PhD who worked for NASA. He knew how to do research. If it wasn't for his age… "There's no way you're going to be able to eat 5,000 calories in a day, not with dinners like that." Chicken breast and spinach salad and skim milk. Very healthy and very, very lean. Even he was hungry tonight. "Heck, if I stay on that diet for another two months I'm going to be dealing with starvation psychosis right along with you. And Spencer is already fighting back from the edge."

"No, we won't be staying on her diet. She can't keep us in the house all the time; we'll just eat out at least twice a day. That plus what she's allowing us to have ought to be enough. It was like when I was dealing with Sharon."

"When you were dealing with Sharon you were trying to maintain your weight, not gain."

"So I'll maintain for a few more months. It's not like I'm going to die."

"No, but without the hormones in your body you're bones are rotting out, your chance of getting cancer is going through the roof and odds are your heart will throw a rod on us." Thom practically gnashed his teeth in frustration.

"Mrs. Hotch isn't Sharon. She's not trying to be deliberately cruel. She's trying to help us be healthy and happy. Ms. WIlson is a member of the same culture as Mrs. Hotch, so is the ED specialist at Georgetown, they're all saying things that agree with Mrs. Hotch's worldview. They just don't understand that we're not normal."

"Yeah, she's killing you with kindness. Unfortunately by staying out of her way as much as I have been I've kept her from learning otherwise. We need to call Spence and tell him."

"While he's out hunting bad guys? Not a chance. Besides, I don't want to set up a battle between him and his boss, or between Mr. and Mrs. Hotch. If we do we're liable to be thrown out on our asses, and then what? Separate foster homes? No, we just make it through until May, then we won't have to worry about fitting in anymore, we'll be able to do what we need to do."

That was intolerable. He could not see her suffer that long. "We'll talk it over with Spence when we pick him up on Friday."

"Good enough." She washed down some more bread. "I do think I understand the obesity crisis now." She said.

"Oh?"

"Most active teenagers need between two and three thousand calories a day, right? But their mothers are all on these crazy starvation diets, I mean Keys had his test subjects on the same rations they were on in POW camps in WW II, and that was 1,500 calories a day, which is a moderate number according to most diet plans. Some go down as low as a thousand. In addition they're all on low-fat, low-sodium diets meant for men in their 60's who have already had one heart attack, not for active teens."

"So what's making them fat?"

"Soda. Everyone pays attention to what they eat, no one really realizes that there's 240 calories in the average bottle of soda. So no one realizes that the kids are making up that thousand calorie deficit in their diets and their low electrolytes with four or five bottles of sweetened salt water a day. But there's nothing the body can do with that other than convert it to fat. If they would just let their kids eat real food, and not masses of insoluble fiber or chemicals in processed crap but stuff with lots of protein and healthy fat then they'd be more liable to build bone and muscle and brain cells. I'd bet if we sat around here and drank endless bottles of soda or juice drink she'd never say a thing."

"Which explains why they banned soda in Galois but let us drink all the milk we wanted, and always had eggs for breakfast." Thom nodded. "You have a point peaches, but you are not going to get healthy on sugary salt water, I won't let you do that to yourself."

"I wasn't planning on it." she swallowed her last bit of bread with a sigh. "It would help though. I hate being hungry."

"So do I peaches, so do I."


	60. Part 6: Chapter 60

**Chapter 60**

**Leeland Rd. VRE Station  
275 Leeland Road  
Falmouth, VA  
02/17/06**

**Thom**

Every Friday one of two things happened. Either Spencer was working in the city that day, in which case he picked Stephen up at school and they took the train down, or else he was out on a case and Thom and now Milly had to drive up to get him. Today was one of the former days; Spencer and his team had come back just in time for brother bear to head out to his appointments in the city, which was why they were at the train stop, nothing more than a platform and a parking lot, waiting on the five o'clock train when his phone rang, "Hartmann."

"T…Thom?" Said a soft, shaky voice.

"Joey?" What the hell. He'd left the prefrosh at home two hours ago. "What's wrong?"

"I'm…I'm…"

Then came the sounds of the phone being taken from his hands, "Look over at the north side of the lot." Matt Matruka said.

Oh hell. Thom's head swiveled in that direction. He saw Matt standing there, waving, while two of his crew practically held Joey off the ground. "Didn't you learn?" Thom said. "You know we do this and this time I'm going for the knees. Kiss your precious football game good-bye."

"Yeah, right, come over here and back that up. Or shall I take it out on your little fuck-buddy here. You decide." With that Matt hung up and they dragged Joey off into the woods.

"What's going on?" Milly asked.

"Prefrosh is in trouble. Stay here and wait for Spence, send him over when the train gets here." Thom started jogging toward the woods.

"Oh you are not going after them alone!" Milly replied as she started following him.

"You're not strong enough peaches!"

"Tell that to Billy Preston!"

They ran into the woods on the side of the parking lot. Sure enough, there was Matt and two of his crew. "What's this?" He asked when he saw Milly. "I thought you batted for the other team."

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Thom quoted at him. "Now what the hell do you want?"

"Well I was going to say nothing, but now I think I want to enjoy her company for a while." He openly leered at Milly.

"Yeah, good luck with that." Thom all but laughed. "And what am I supposed to be doing while you do that?"

"Having a family reunion."

Thom was about to ask him what the fuck he was talking about when something cracked across his back, causing a bright flair of pain and dropping him to the ground. He quickly rolled and spun to face the threat. What he saw brought real fear to his heart. "Hello John."

His older brothers, all four of them, smiled down at him. "Hello brother." John replied.

Matt and his crew were distracted, laughing. "Joey, run and get help." Milly said, quickly assessing the situation.

"What?"

"RUN!" And with that she launched herself at Matt, using the same technique she'd used on the deputy, with much the same effect.

Joey ran.

* * *

**Spencer**

Spencer and Stephen were just hitting the parking lot when Joey ran up to him. "Prefrosh? What…"

"Thom…Matt…his brothers…."Joey pointed back at the woods, just in time for a scream to echo across the lot.

Oh hell.

"Stay here." Spencer dropped his go bag and shoved Joey into Stephen's marginally older arms. He spotted two uniformed officers further down the platform, pulled out his badge and whistled, loud and sharp. "I need backup!" He yelled at them even as he was starting to run. He had just enough time to register that they were following him, that thank god he still had his holster on his belt, that that was Thom screaming and not Milly before he hit the tree line and faced a nightmare.

Three boys in athletic jackets had Milly on the ground. Two were pinning her, the third, the one with blood running down his face, was trying to get his pants off. On the other side of the clearing four men were laughing around a body on the ground, holding it down and there was a knife… "FBI! Drop your weapon!"

The three boys over Milly look surprised. That gave her enough leverage to push them off and scrabble away. "Spencer!" She gasped.

The others stopped and turned to look at him. The one with the knife cocked his head in a way Spencer did not like. "But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain." He said with a thick, familiar accent as he carefully put the knife on the ground. "For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God's wrath on the wrongdoer."

Then he pulled out a gun.

Spencer had just enough time to duck behind a tree before the first shot went past him

Front sight

Trigger pull

Follow through

And John Hartmann went down with a hole between his eyes.

Now everyone else was stunned. The other cops came rushing in, taking control, while Spencer ran over to the body on the ground. "Thom?! THOM!"

* * *

**Georgetown University Medical Center  
Surgical Waiting Room  
3800 Reservoir Rd. NW**

It was late by the time Spencer finally got to where he needed to be. "Well?" Hotch asked.

"It was a clean shoot." Morgan replied. "The two Falmouth cops backed it. Reid announced FBI, John Hartmann took a shot at him anyway; Reid returned fire, simple as that. Where is everyone?"

"Milly is on her way here with Garcia. She insisted." Hotch replied. "They kept her at Stafford because when they said they wanted to run a rape kit she not only refused she became very agitated and ended up having a panic attack and a hot flash at the same time. Stephen is with Haley, they're at home. Joey is with his mother, I spoke to her and Principal Nichols. Given the retributive nature of the incident, I advised her to insist upon his receiving his diploma now so he could transfer to CalTech early. As I understand he's heading out on Monday."

"And Thom?" Spencer's own voice sounded very far away.

"He's still in surgery. Dr, Norcross is overseeing his care."

All they could do was wait. Hardest thing in the world.

About thirty minutes later Milly all but ran into the waiting room and straight into his arms, Garcia not far behind. "Are you all right?" He asked, cradling her head against his shoulder.

She nodded. "They didn't hurt me. I just…I was trying so hard."

"Shhh, you're still not recovered. You'll be strong again. I'll keep you safe until then."

"Where's Thom?"

"Still in surgery."

She sobbed quietly into his shoulder for a moment more, then, "I want to go home Spencer."

"Huh?"

"I want to go home. I want us to go back to CalTech."

"Milly…"

"No!" She pushed away then, her fear and worry coming out as anger. "I want us to go home! We were safe there! Nobody hurt us there! We didn't have to be afraid all the time, Spencer, and we didn't have to worry about being hungry or people out to get us! We could work and live and love and be healthy there and nobody cared! I want that! I want that back! I want to go home!"

"And I couldn't go with you." He replied, gentle and calm in the face of all her emotion. "And you'd only have it for a few more months anyway."

She stood there, fists tight, shoulders up, weight balanced, ready to take on an enemy that was everywhere and nowhere at once as she grew tighter and tighter. "I just want to go home!" She finally sobbed out as she broke. "I just want to go home!"

"I know." He said as he pulled her back into his arms, her sobs wilder now as she almost pounded on his chest. "We don't have a home."

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** End of Part 6

I'll be adding a flashback about what happened to Thom to the LJ account associate with this story as soon as I can get it off my now dead computer. The LJ stuff didn't make it into the backups. Sorry folks.


	61. Part 7: Chapter 61

_**Part 7**_

_The family you come from isn't as important as the family you're going to have.  
- Ring Lardner_

* * *

**Chapter 61**

**Georgetown University Medical Center  
Surgical Waiting Room  
3800 Reservoir Rd. NW  
02/17/06**

**Spencer**

It was another hour before Dr. Norcross finally came out. "Thomas Hartmann."

Spencer and Hotch and Milly went over to meet him, Morgan and Garcia close behind. "I'm Thom's guardian, we spoke earlier." Hotch said. "This is his family."

"Yes, I remember." Dr. Norcross smiled. "Thom is out of surgery. He's going to be fine."

Spencer sent up a silent prayer to the Universe. "Did you have to...amputate?"

"No, thank goodness. In fact the surgery we had to perform was the first in the series he needed to start repairing the previous damage. Now it's going to take a few months to heal from this and then he will need more surgery, and he won' be functional for that time, but in about three months total he should be back to, well, functionality."

"And will no longer be my problem." Hotch said in his utter deadpan. "I'm good with this."

"When can we see him?" Milly asked.

"They're making him comfortable in recovery and once he's settled you can go in."

There really wasn't much more. After the doctor headed out again Hotch went off to call Haley and Milly stepped back into Spencer's arms, but this time the hug was one of relief and joy. Thom was going to be all right! Thom was going to be all right!

* * *

About twenty minutes later the nurse said they could go in two at a time. And two meant him and Milly first and foremost. They got to the room only to find Thom hooked up to the expected number of tubes and wires and drifting in and out. "Hey brother bear." He mumbled when they came in. "Arrest whoever drove that truck."

"Right. Don't worry about it."

Thom rolled his head and looked over at Milly. "Hey peaches. Wait…" All of a sudden he was struggling to get up.

"I'm fine." She told him as they both got him back into bed. "I'm fine, they just scared me. I broke Matt's nose for him and now he's in jail. And Joey's fine too, everyone's fine."

"Really?" Thom rolled his head to look at Spencer, "She right about that?"

"Yeah, even you're fine." Spencer smiled, it had to be said. "John fixed your dick for you."

Thom laughed until he fell asleep again.

* * *

**Starbucks  
Georgetown University Medical Center**

Okay, it wasn't much. But it had food and they were both starving, and it was only two floors down from where Thom was sleeping it off under Morgan and Garcia's watchful eyes. And Hotch said he wanted to talk. "I couldn't help overhearing your comment earlier about not having a home." Hotch said.

Milly turned pink. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean it that way. I was just upset…"

"No. No, I understand. But the reality is that my basement was always meant to be a temporary stop. Now you and your family are welcome to it for as long as you need, but more and more it's becoming clear that it might not be the best place for right now."

"You talked to Mrs. Hotch?"

"Yes."

Uh-oh. Spencer spoke up. "Am I missing something?"

Milly sighed. "We didn't want to call you while you were out on a case; we were going to talk about it tonight over dinner…"

"Haley is taking issue with the amount of freedom your family is used to having under the Galois House system." Hotch explained. "While she was willing to allow some leeway when it was just a healthy young man, having a young woman in the house who isn't well is bringing out her mothering instincts. And while I know your family would go out of their way to maintain peaceful relations I'm afraid they'll take it to the point where their mental and even physical health may be in danger in order to be able to stay together in a safe environment. Eventually that will stop working and I'd rather it do so in a controlled manner than in an uncontrolled blow-out. And unfortunately Thom's injury is making the matter more urgent."

This still didn't sound good. "So what are you suggesting?"

"Emancipation. Legal adulthood."

"We considered it." Milly replied. "We'd have to show just cause, some reason why we'd be better off on our own than with your family and there really isn't…"

"That applied to Thom, being a ward of the court under the family court rules, and to California." Hotch stopped and corrected her. "You were never a ward of the family court like Thom and Stephen. You fell under the rules of probate court, and as such different laws apply. Such as when I was granted guardianship your case transferred to Virginia, it's not covered by the six month law like Thom and Stephen. That means I can make decisions for you without having to get court approval."

"So you can just declare me an adult?" Milly asked, clearly confused.

"No. But I can sign permission for you to marry." Hotch replied. "You legally can in Virginia, with the approval of your guardian, and once you marry you are automatically emancipated. As a married couple Thom can come and stay with you, we can say he's transferring to an independent living situation. Then you can work out your own plan for medical care with the doctors and professionals you choose without having to answer to anyone else. That assumes, of course, that you two still want to marry."

Spencer's head had been full of static ever since Hotch used the word 'marry'. He thought they still wanted it, but it was entirely up to Milly, so he turned to look at her. And she did not look…happy. "I always thought I'd get married in church." She said finally. "It meant so much to Dad."

"The nice thing about being married is that no one makes inquiries into your sleeping arrangements." Hotch pointed out. "My suggestion would be to get legally married at the courthouse as soon as possible, I'll sign the permission. Find a house with more than one bedroom suite, you can certainly afford it and Stephen will appreciate it this coming summer. Set it up much as they did Galois House, dorm style, you lived in the same building like that before with no issues." Milly turned a little pink again. "And if there were any I do not want to know. Then plan a church wedding. If it's any help I spoke with Gary Douran and he said your father would understand and approve, he always did approve of your choice in husbands."

Milly thought about it a long moment, before looking over at Spencer. "Do you still want to?"

Well, that was easy. "Absolutely, but what will the Bureau say?"

"As your Unit Chief I would say so long as it's legal it's none of their business."

Milly only had to think for a moment more, "Only if you walk me down the aisle in church."

"I would be honored."

* * *

**02/20/06**

"Married huh?" Thom asked, still groggy from the pain meds he was on.

"Only legally for now. Then we can set up Ravensworth House and take it from there." Milly sighed as she leaned on the bed rail. "Are you going to be upset about not being there?"

"Naw, not if it's only for the paperwork. You are still having a big church wedding, aren't you?"

"Absolutely."

"Good, didn't want all that trouble of finding a seamstress who would make a Victorian wedding dress to go to waste." They both chuckled. "You all still want me in this, right?"

"Yes we do." Spencer reassured him. "When we get there; we're just housemates for now. But that means there is this." He picked up Thom's hand and slid a ring over his finger. It was a signet ring with a crest engraved upon it, the device being a drawing Thom had done not long before of a stylized raven.

"Nice. It came out fine." Thom sank back. "Go get it done then, and find us a home to get healthy in."

"We will." Spencer said before he and Milly took turns leaning over to kiss him, "Promise."

* * *

**Stafford County Courthouse  
1300 Courthouse Rd.  
Stafford, VA  
02/21/06**

Take the day off work. Put on a decent suit. Drive out to Virginia. Realize that Milly only has yoga pants and tank tops and a sweater. Decide it doesn't matter. Remember the two other signet rings they had made. Put the remaining two Bennett family rings aside for Stephen. Call your Mother and try one more time to tell her only to have her tell you that the phone is tapped, but she got the letter you sent overnight and she does understand and is proud and wants to meet her soon and wants pictures when the time comes.

Go down to the courthouse. Find Gideon waiting. Explain once again that they were having a church wedding in three months; this was only for the paperwork. Have Gideon tell you that he doesn't care.

Go up to the clerk. Give her the paperwork required, get back a form. Fill that out and sign it and hand it back. Have Hotch give over his paperwork and fill out his form. Yes, we'd like the judge to marry us today. Yes, we have fifty dollars. Yes, in cash.

Wait. Realize you're not nervous. Realize that this is the only thing that ever made sense. Realize that if you could go back in time to that odd day with the nurse and the counselor that you would tell Dr. King the exact same thing, you are keeping both of them, but that somehow it is not the same. Realize that you love Thom but maybe not like _that_ so much. Finally start to understand that you kind of maybe lean more this way. Realize that this is the only thing you could ever do.

Go into the Judge's chambers. Ask very nicely if he would use a different set of vows because you love Thom and want him in your life, no matter what. Be very relieved when the judge agrees.

_I, Spencer, take you Millicent to be my friend, my lover, the mother of my children and my wife. I will be yours in times of plenty and in times of want, in times of sickness and in times of health, in times of joy and in times of sorrow, in times of failure and in times of triumph. I promise to cherish and respect you, to care for you and protect you, to comfort and encourage you, and stay with you, for all eternity. _

_With this ring, I thee wed. _


	62. Part 7: Chapter 62

**Chapter 62**

**53 Glacier Way  
Stafford VA  
02/21/06**

**Hotch**

Of course it couldn't be that easy.

Haley had fought the idea ever since he first proposed it. She had refused to go to the courthouse with them. And now that they were back to load the truck with everything that would fit she was still making her unhappiness known. "I can't believe you're doing this." She said.

"Um, actually it's done." He had to point out to her. "Milly and Spencer are married and she's is officially an adult. She doesn't have to stay with us any longer."

"She's a sick child…"

"She's not well, yes, but she's hardly a child. She meets any possible criteria for adulthood."

"She's only seventeen!"

"I know. But she's completed her degree, she's held down a job, she practically managed her father's house for him and she raised her younger brother. She's proven herself capable of managing adult affairs; I don't see any reason to deny her the right to do so for herself."

"I just think they're too young to get married."

"You were eighteen. Does eighty-five days matter that much? We didn't make a mistake, did we?"

Haley didn't answer. Years later he would realize that that was the first sign.

**Milly**

There were a few last minute things to pack up. Somehow there were a few last minute things to pack up. If her mind had been anywhere close to healthy there wouldn't have been anything left, everything would have been organized, every 'I' dotted, every 't' crossed but she was still not thinking clearly and her binder did not contain a checklist for what felt like a cross between an elopement and bugging out.

That was how Mrs. Hotch was able to corner her in the bedroom. "Milly, I…"

Sigh. "Mrs. Hotch, I know, all right. And thank you, for everything. But this really is the best thing for me."

Mrs. Hotch sighed. "I'm sure you think so…"

"I know so."

"…but this is a really big step and I know you and your mother were never close…"

"That's one way to put it."

"…so I'm just not sure if you understand what you're getting into. I married young too…"

"And look how well it worked."

"…and there were things I didn't understand. When it comes to marriage, men…"

Oh hell. "Mrs. Hotch, please stop. Either you're about to start talking about sex or you're about to start talking about body image and really, I'm a biologist, I know how reproduction works."

Mrs. Hotch gave her a very patient smile. "It's not just about biology. When it comes to marriage, men want certain things…"

Christ! "Haley, stop! What are you about to tell me? That any man would want me to stay rail thin, and if I gain weight like I want he's going to be disappointed and start having an affair or worse? A year ago I weighted thirty pounds more than I do now. I could drop a six foot tall man onto the mat or spend hours beating them up in a rugby scrum, and I could still give Spencer a hard-on with a look."

"It doesn't work that way."

"Really? Have you actually flat out asked your husband if he still finds you attractive?"

"No! You can't just do that!"

"No, _you_ can't just do that. In our culture we talk about things like that and we tell each other the truth. I know Spencer wants me to feel strong again, how I look when I get there isn't what matters."

Haley huffed out a sigh. "It's not just that. The first time…"

"Are you about to tell me that sex is some crude, painful, horrible experience that takes years to figure out how to do to everyone's mutual satisfaction? See, in our culture everyone finishes happy every time, even the first time."

"And how do you plan to do that? It's not like men just know…"

"No, they don't just know. That's why you have to tell them."

"Tell them what?"

Okay, she knew this conversation was going to be difficult, but she didn't expect it to be this difficult. "What you need to reach orgasm."

Haley actually blushed. "You can't tell them that!"

"Yes you can. In our culture men's egos are not too fragile to admit lack of knowledge."

"Oh, well you will learn. Besides, how do you know?"

" Masturbation." Haley blushed. "Granted not since I got out of the hell hole, but I had years of experience before hand, I'm sure I'll remember how once I'm healthy again."

"Girls don't do that!"

"In our culture girls _do_. And then when they find the right guy they do it in front of him, kind of a show-and-tell so he knows what she likes, and then he shows her what _he_ likes and then they experiment from there."

Haley had turned beet red by now. "I could never do that when I was your age. I couldn't even do that now."

"Well, in our culture it's probably safe to say that you wouldn't be considered ready for sexual activity until you could."

Haley made an exasperated sound. "Why do you keep saying 'our culture'? We're all part of the same culture."

"Given that we have very different attitudes toward such basic things as body image, family and sexuality, I'm afraid I'm going to have to disagree with that."

By now Haley was pursing her lips with what might be anger and might be disgust. "I'm sorry, I just don't understand this. I don't understand this at all."

"And you have trouble respecting things you don't understand?" Haley just stared. Milly had kind of figured that. "That's all right. But given that, this is probably the best move."

"Why do you say that?"

"I have the right to live my life and treat my body according to what I consider my own beliefs and the beliefs of my culture." Milly had been calm and gentle through most of this, now she doubled her efforts. "If you don't understand that culture and if you have trouble respecting things you don't understand…"

"I…guess I just can't…."

"That's all right, though. At least that's honest. And I can respect your discomfort. But that being the case, we're just going to end up in repeat conflicts, which isn't healthy for anyone. It's better that we don't live together."

"But you're still a child!"

Oh for fuck's sake. "No, I'm not. I could have done this, oh, a year ago? Maybe more? I was just extending my childhood to make my father happy." She smiled and decided to take the easy way out. "If it's easier just consider me some kind of freak that's totally not normal."

"Well that's certainly how you're talking, like some freak. And you're acting like one as well."

"There you go then." And at this point anything that didn't get packed was probably replaceable. "Thank you, for looking after my family for me. I know it couldn't have been easy."

"Well, you're welcome."

Right. It was past time to go.

**I-95 Northbound  
Off the USMC Truck Highway exit**

**Spencer**

As soon as they were comfortable settled on the highway Milly settled back in her seat and sighed. "What?" Spencer asked.

"I finally feel like we're heading home."

"We're heading back to my apartment. It's not all that great."

"Doesn't matter, we're finally free to do what we want to do and need to do with our bodies and our lives. Wherever we land we can make a home."


	63. Part 7: Chapter 63

**Chapter 63**

**Georgetown University Medical Center  
Comprehensive Care Center  
Room 512  
3800 Reservoir Rd. NW**

**Spencer**

"Where's Milly?" Thom asked.

His lover was feeling better today. He was sitting up at least, and there were the remains of a meal on a tray in front of him, and it looked like he had been reading and attempting to diagram something. "My apartment," Spencer told him as he settled into the chair next to the bed. "She made it as far as the couch before she dropped. Between the courthouse this morning, moving and the discussion she had with Mrs. Hotch she was exhausted. I made sure she has a phone right there and the place is locked and very secure."

"Discussion?"

"Yeah, thankfully she managed to pull off getting Mrs. Hotch off everyone's back without causing friction between her and Hotch."

"How did she manage that?"

"She tried to explain that it was a cultural thing but when that didn't work she pulled the freak card."

"Oh, that always works. What's that?"

"Your trophy from the robotics competition; Principal Nichols brought it by. He said you're out for the rest of the year, they'll be mailing you your diploma."

"Freak card?"

"Yeah."

Uh-huh." Thom closed his eyes and settled back.

Spencer took a deep breath. "I'm…I'm just…"

Thom opened his eye again. "Spit it out brother bear."

"Did anyone tell you what happened to John?"

"Anyone like Mr. Hotch?" Thom nodded. "Yes, he did."

"I…I just…"

"I know."

"Thom, _I killed your brother_."

"Who was trying to geld me before killing me and probably would have killed you. Spencer, stop it. Stop it right now. I do not blame you for this. You saved my ass and probably Milly's at the same time. All John had to do was stay home; he didn't have to come out here. He could have walked away and gotten himself fixed up and that would have been the end of it. This was his doing, not yours. You saved our lives. Never forget that."

"But he was your _brother_."

"No, he wasn't. He chose not to be. That's the end of it." Thom was rarely ever that firm, he meant what he said. For a moment Spencer thought he might see his grandfather in him, know the older man just a little. Having said it Thom settled back. "So you two are married?"

"It's just legality." Spencer quickly reminded him. "Just so we can all be housemates again."

"I know. I was just wondering if you two had given any thought to last names. Girls usually change theirs, you know."

"I think she's been considering hyphenating like her great-grandmother did. Reid-Hartmann sounds decent."

Thom groaned. "Stop her before she makes that legal."

"Why?"

"When my brothers were cutting me up they said I didn't even deserve the family name."

"Well…"

"And my Granddaddy specifically told me to change mine after he passed. He said my daddy had done enough to make the family name a laughingstock, to tarnish it up; I shouldn't have to need that much elbow grease to make it shine. He told me that when I met someone to take her family name, or else if her family was bad to make up one to share."

"And he wanted that?"

"After he passed, yes. He said he didn't need the name to brag on me in heaven. So I've been thinking on it, lying here." Thom cracked one eye and looked at him. "We're got three parents between us worth honoring. My family is out of it at Granddaddy's request. There is Bennett, for Mark's memory, but Stephen has that covered, he'll keep that name going. Why did your momma keep her married name?"

"They never divorced." Spencer replied, wondering where Thom was going with this. "And she said that everything that happened between them happened after I was born. She wanted me to remember that I wasn't random, that I was planned for and born in love."

"Mmm-hmm, your momma honestly did try to do right by you, didn't she?"

"Always. Why." What was he saying?

"Because Dr. Millicent Reid doesn't sound too bad, and Dr. Thomas Reid doesn't either. All bound up in love and all. What would she think?"

His heart was near to bursting it was so full. "I think that if she was capable of understanding right now she'd would. And she'd be very proud."

"All right then." Thom reached over and grabbed his hand tight. "You're my brother, if you want."

Spencer grinned. "Yes, Dr. Reid, I do."

* * *

**Archstone Van Ness apartments  
3003 Van Ness St. NW  
Washington, DC**

On the way home from the hospital Spencer stopped for supplies, including a blender. When he saw Milly stirring on the couch he got to work so that by the time she wandered out of the bathroom he was bringing out two large glasses. "One cinnamon vanilla milkshake with vitamin supplement and protein powder," he announced, putting it in front of her. "And I hope you don't mind if I share."

"Not at all." He'd turned on the lights, giving Milly a chance to look around. "So this is your place."

"You're about to tell me it looks like a hotel room."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"I rented it furnished. It looks like a hotel room."

"At least the couch is comfortable."

"It's a futon and it's one of the few things that are mine. I've fallen asleep on it more than once." Wait a minute. "You're not planning to sleep on it, are you?"

"Well, yes." Milly was thoughtful a moment. "Given that I just tried to explain the concept of clear communication to Haley this morning…"

"Haley?"

She smiled. "Adults are usually on a first name basis."

"Good point."

"Anyway, I'm am so not up to attempting to actually lose my virginity right now, or anything even close, which is not to say that I don't want to have sex, in that I do want to with you, but right now I don't want to have sex in general, not even with myself. And I don't know if it's from the trauma or from my hormones or some kind of brain damage or what, it's all still a huge jumble in my head. This is actually kind of scaring me, you know."

Spencer sighed and nodded. "I can imagine it is. If it's any help I doubt you've suffered some huge amount of brain damage. All of your symptoms can be explained by the hormone deficit, if that's what this is, and that being the case then you should recover 95-98% of your previous abilities, mental and physical once you start the appropriate treatment."

"Not a hundred percent?"

Spencer frowned. "Going this long without estrogen at your age is bound to cause some damage, specifically to short-term memory. But it should still vastly improve once you're on meds."

"I'm not complaining, I will not complain."

"It should also bring your libido back, at least from a physiological angle, and alleviate some of the depression and anxiety. Any remaining issues are trauma based. I, um, took the liberty of making us an appointment with the best reproductive endocrinologist in the area tomorrow so you can start testing for treatment."

Milly smiled. "Thank you, the sooner the better."

"I also made an appointment with a therapist who specializes in victims of torture…."

"Torture?"

"…which you qualify for on Thursday, and the Occupational Therapist you've been seeing in her DC office on Friday. You did say you liked her, yes?"

"Yes, she's been fabulously helpful. But we've gotten away from the point again."

"Oh?"

"Where am I sleeping? I don't want to drive you nutty by lying next to you and not letting you do anything, that's hardly fair."

It was Spencer's turn to smile. "Milly, first off you're talking to someone who routinely fell asleep in his mother's bed until he was twelve, and then crawled in bed with his roommate in his sleep so often we considered just shoving the beds together. Or setting them up like bunks and letting Thom have the top to make it harder for me to crawl in with him in my sleep."

"Okay, your point?"

"That I actually enjoy just sleeping with someone just for the sake of sleeping, no sexual content required. That and there's something I've deeply wanted to do since you were taken, also non-sexual, that I'd really like to do tonight, if you don't mind."

"As long as it doesn't require too much energy. You said first off, what's second?'

"It doesn't. Second is that I don't think that Thom is going to want to sleep where he can get bumped and the futon you're sitting on is the only other bed in the apartment."

"Good point." Milly looked around the room. There was the futon, his reading chair, and… "That means he's going to be in this most of the time which means we are going to be short a chair. I think I'd like a rocking chair, actually, a nice one."

"We can do that tomorrow or the next day if you like."

"Don't you have to work?"

Spencer smiled. "I'm on call this week. If there's a crisis, an Amber Alert case or something I'll have to go in, but if not I'm off until Monday. That will give you two time to get settled."

"Good. I also have to find us a house."

"First things first."

* * *

After finishing their milkshakes they went to visit with Thom until he decided to sleep again. Then they stopped at Whole Foods, picked up dinner to go and vowed to go back on the morrow to stock up the small kitchen with the sort of diet that would help them get back to healthy. They went back to the apartment and ate in front of a Dr. Who, curled up on the futon like old times.

It was utterly wonderful.

Bedtime came and with it Milly got her first look at the bed. "It's perfect!"

It was a king size, big enough for three, with one of those headboards that incorporated a bookshelf. This one had three equal sections, one of which held Spencer's things. "Yeah, I couldn't figure out how to get two nightstands to work for three people, so I went with this."

"Dibs on the middle, I'll set it up while you're in the shower." And sure enough, by the time he got back her nightstand things were settled in nicely. It was her turn, and she was of course gone a little longer, but soon enough she came back and curled up in the middle in her pajamas, "Now what?"

"Something I used to do with my Mom that always helped me feel safe enough to sleep. Get comfortable." She settled down as he reached for the book on the top of her pile. "Is this the one you're currently reading?"

She laughed a little, her smile that sweet as she snuggled in next to him. "Yes."

"All right then. _Vincent had heard about the 114 volunteers. He was impressed. He thought that things were looking up…_"

He read to her until she was a soft weight against his side. And that night he finally slept like he was in heaven.


	64. Part 7: Chapter 64

**Chapter 64**

**Archstone Van Ness apartments  
3003 Van Ness St. NW  
Washington, DC  
02/22/06**

**Spencer**

Spencer woke from the most hideous nightmare of his life to sunlight streaming into his bedroom.

He'd forgotten to close the blinds last night. But this morning he was not complaining because that meant that there was ample light to see by. That meant he could roll over and see Milly's face touched by the gentle rays of the morning sun. She opened her eyes and gave him a sleepy smile before snuggling back into her pillow.

His _wife_.

The nightmare kept clinging to him, kept trying to draw him back down. But he refused. He reached out to ever so gently touch her cheek, lightly cup her jaw, feel her muscles move under his thumb as her smile widened. "Good morning." She murmured.

"You're my wife." He said, astonished by that.

"You noticed."

"I think it just sunk in." She hadn't really opened her eyes yet. She was just lying there, so relaxed, so trusting, and clearly feeling completely safe. The dream came back to him; that was his responsibility now, she was his to protect and to love. His. Something monumental was shifting in the space around and between them. He had the sense of stones grinding while they moved to new places in the circle. "My wife," he said again, tasting the meaning on his lips. Did my father feel this, he wondered, is this what my mother meant?

"Yes." She put her arms above her head and stretched, then reached around his shoulders and snuggled into his arms.

He couldn't help it, he wanted her then. He remembered his dream and he wanted to take her, gentle and slow, until she came utterly undone in his arms. He wanted to mark her somehow, _inside_ where it couldn't be removed. He didn't even want _Thom_ to go that far, and Thom was his brother now. He cradled her close and tried to figure out what the hell had come over him. When did I get so possessive anyway? Was this what we were counting down to all this time? Not sex but this?

"You all right?" She asked, somehow sensing his mood.

"I think so."

She leaned back, then, to look at him, and to gently cradle his cheek. "My husband," she murmured.

And with that whatever was in the room settled into a bond that would last for all time.

* * *

Eventually they made it out of bed. Spencer had become used to the lazy mornings she required, time to wait for the inevitable hot flash to hit and pass and time to recover after. But that meant time for a morning medicinal milkshake and a leisurely breakfast, eggs, sausage, pastry they had picked up the night before, coffee, tea. Time to read, do a little research. "What are you researching?" She asked as she came out of the kitchen, steaming mug in hand.

"At the moment the Bloomsbury Group and the concept of fluid-bonding," he told her. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about the last one, maybe he could deflect her. "What have you been researching lately?"

"Maltheism and home economics, and do not call me Mrs. Dalloway." She leaned over his shoulder to read, "The Bloomsbury Group hm?"

"Yes, the group that supposedly lived in squares and loved in triangles." He looked up at her profile; here in their own space again, she was already starting to bloom back out into what she was supposed to be. "That was about the same time your Great-Grandmother would have been in London."

"I wonder if they were the friends her brother didn't allow at Ravensworth. _However controversy continues to accompany Bloomsbury wherever it goes. Much work on Bloomsbury continues to focus on the group's class origins and alleged elitism, their satire, their atheism, their oppositional politics and liberal economics, their non-abstract art, their modernist fiction, their art and literary criticism, and their non-nuclear family and sexual arrangements._ I see the comparison, you just have to take out the modernist fiction, I don't think they're considered 'modernist' anymore. I rather like the thought of re-creating something like that, in a way." She paged over to the other article. "Hmmm, when I'm healthy, I don't think we need to worry about double-gating though, we haven't had any outside partners."

Wait, she wanted to…. "Really?"

"Yes, very much, I don't know that Thom would be into that sort of thing, even once he's healthy."

"No, I don't think so."

"Is it wrong to say that as much as I want Thom around I only want to go in that direction with you?"

His heart beat triple time, "No, not at all."

"You two are very different you know."

"Oh?"

"He always makes me feel beautiful; you always make me feel desirable." She pressed a kiss to his temple and went back to her own computer.

He smiled. "Well then it's a good thing you have both of us." Both kinds of love. After a few he said. "I do, you know."

"I know. I could tell from the way you used to look at me."

"Used to?"

"Right now you just look like you want to wave a magic wand and make me healthy again."

He sighed, "That too." Just then the intercom rang, and he got up to answer. "Yes?"

"Package delivered." The Doorman said. "Shall I send it up?"

"Please." Spencer was still in sweats and an old Academy t-shirt; he wasn't up to wandering across the lobby. A few moments later a package from a store in Australia was delivered. "I didn't order anything from Australia." Crap, please tell him this wasn't something from another Unsub? He opened it and found a half-dozen little balls of fabric, each in its own wrapping, and an invoice. "_If you can't fix it then decorate it. PG_" He read. "It's probably from Garcia. But what…?" He opened one of the small balls and found himself holding a tiny triangle of fabric with a silken string coming off each point.

"OH!" All of a sudden Milly's eyes went wide. She turned russet red and practically ripped the bit of fabric out of his fingers. "Oh, it's for me. She sent it to me. See." She pointed to the package. "Dr. M. Reid, not S. Reid. She must have ordered them when we told them we were getting married on Friday."

He couldn't help chuckling, "Um, nice to see that you can still do bashful. What is it though?"

"It's um…oh hell, come here." She took the package and headed for the bedroom.

"We're alone in the apartment." He pointed out.

"I don't care come here."

Right. He followed her in and settled on the bed. "Okay."

"Okay, I've been, um really embarrassed and upset about something that happened, and I've been kind of worried about showing you…"

"Never be embarrassed about what they did." He told her. "Whatever it is it's not your fault."

"I know. Believe me, I know. It's just…" She huffed out a sigh and stepped back a bit. Then she undid the drawstring on her pajama shorts and lowered them, just a little. Just to where he would expect to see the orange fur he'd seen before but…

"Um, didn't you have…?"

"Yes, I did. Electrolysis."

Oh god. He couldn't help it; he winced and shuddered in sympathy. "That explains the need for soft underwear." A tender spot with her SPD and no natural protection. "I am so sorry."

"It's all right, I'm adapting. But there are two issues here, the first being that apparently according to Lakeworth angels don't have adult secondary sexual characteristics. And I liked mine, I liked being in an adult body, I liked the way it looked and I liked the way it felt. Being stuck with a body that looks prepubescent is kind of bothering me. I mean these shorts are comfortable and cozy for everyday, but sometimes you want to feel more…grown-up about things. I considered a tattoo or scarification…" Spencer made a negative noise at that. "…but Penelope pointed out that in her experience sensitivity was a good thing in this case and I shouldn't risk lessening it."

"I agree." Mental note, send Garcia flowers.

"The other thing that was bothering me was that the first time that we actually try full frontal nudity I didn't want your first look to be a reminder of what happened. I wanted it to be of me, of my intent, like you said. I didn't know how to go there without lessening sensitivity, but it looks like Penelope found a solution."

"This?" He held up the little triangle with the string and looked it over. It was white and lacy, exactly the kind of thing he always dreamed of her…all of a sudden his mind made sense of it. It was a very, _very_ tiny pair of underthings, just big enough to cover that which would have been naturally covered and fastened in such a way that it could be easily removed when she was lying down. All of a sudden he pictured her, healthy as she had been, wearing this. Wearing nothing _but_ this. And his reaction was instant and in his pajamas, obvious.

She took them away from him. "I'll leave you to your cold shower now."

"Thank you."


	65. Part 7: Chapter 65

**Chapter 65**

**Whole Foods  
Tenleytown Metro stop  
Washington DC  
02/22/06**

**Spencer**

Last night had been about picking up dinner and breakfast. Today was about stocking the kitchen and celebrating. The appointment with the reproductive endocrinologist, Dr. Nair, had gone exceedingly well. She had listened to the history without undue upset, instantly understood the implications of the Synovex, and ordered all the right tests plus a few they hadn't thought of. And then she said she would contact Linda Yamamoto to connect with the families of the other victims and offer her services. In the end they were both completely satisfied and convinced that Milly was getting the best advice and care.

Their next stop had been at the hospital where they finally got to peep under Thom's bandages. The only term for what was happening under there was 'fucked up', not that he would say it out loud. They also got him up and shambling, at least as far as the Starbucks kiosk, which they said he could have. Caffeine helped his mood tremendously, although he did not enjoy walking right now. While they were there they met with the prosecutor and talked about the upcoming trials. Milly still wanted to testify against Lakewood and his people, even though there had already been some reprisals against other victims. "Like what?" She had asked.

"Other members of their churches have threatened to discipline them." The lawyer replied. "As I understand it they would not only shun the family but they would also start harassment campaigns against their new schools, the parent's employers, their landlords or whoever holds the note on their home, even their doctors until they leave the community. With forces like that against them it's understandable that they'd rather just forget it all happened."

"They can't forget, not if they're as sick as I am." Milly pointed out. "This will haunt them. But then girls are disposable, aren't they?"

"I'm afraid so. But given that…"

"Let's see, I'm independently wealthy to the point where I don't really have to work, my husband works for the FBI which is not an employer known to be rattled by harassment campaigns, I plan to buy my home in cash, and I don't think any doctors here in DC will care. My only concern would be for my brother and Thom's future employment, but I think George Washington and St. Alban's will understand. So no, I'm not going to let them stop me."

"And I know that my family's church will try the same crap." Thom said. "I assume Matt's will as well."

"Is that going to stop you?"

"Fuck no."

"All right then."

Now they were doing the grocery shopping. But when he turned back to the cart there was a familiar figure standing there with a basket over his arm. "Peanut butter as metaphor." Gideon said.

"You lost me." Spencer replied, stepping right into the conversation as if it had never let off, just like always.

"Peanut butter as metaphor. Children have to get along with the tribe in order to survive; it's hard wired in the brain, even if that means shorting their own needs, hiding in special houses behind high, locked fences to get what they need. But eventually they realize they can meet their own needs and stop setting those aside to get along with others. They learn to assert themselves. They grow up."

Spencer stopped. It was true, wasn't it? They hid themselves away in Galois house, meeting their needs in their secret, secure place, not letting anyone else know for fear of being rejected. And not just food, therapy, special classes, social needs, even romance was hidden away. But now… "Good point."

Gideon put the peanut butter back in their cart. "I know."

* * *

**St. Alban's Church  
3001 Wisconsin Avenue NW  
Washington, DC  
02/26/06**

**Stephen**

Normally Stephen was what they called a week-day boarder; he left school before supper on Friday night and had to be back for study hall on Sunday. This let him have dinner out with his brothers-in-law on Friday, spend Saturday helping out with the Hotchners, and Sunday taking care of the things Milly would need. But ever since Milly's return home he'd been spending more and more week-ends at school, to give her the space she needed to start getting better, which was, honestly, taking longer than he had expected. So he was kind of surprised when he saw the figure sitting in one of the back pews this particular Sunday morning. After telling the headmaster he slid in beside her. "Hey." She was crying, he'd realized that when he first saw her. So he pulled out the handkerchief they were required to carry and pressed it into her hand. "What's wrong?" Even though she had to be feeling better to even make it out she still looked sick.

"This is our first Church & Brunch in DC." Milly replied, using his handkerchief to dry her eyes. "Dad would have liked this church I think. I miss him so much."

"Yeah." He said, letting her lean on him for once. "I do too."

* * *

**The Hay-Adams Hotel  
800 16th Street NW  
Washington, DC**

It took Milly a few minutes but she finally convinced the waiter that yes, between the two of them they wanted three entrees. "I assume you'll want some of my pancakes?" She asked him.

"Sure. I'm just not used to you wanting pancakes and an omelet for breakfast." In reply she looked around to be sure no one was looking and then lifted her shirt a bit so he could see her ribs. "Ew. Point made. So you really got married?"

"Just legally. We're still going to have a real wedding sometime before the end of the year; I'm just not sure where yet."

"Yeah, but Spencer really is my brother-in-law now."

Milly smiled a little as it hit her. "Yeah. He really is. It's still kind of kicking in."

"I'll bet. So how's the whole sex thing working out for you?" No, he did not really want to know, he just wanted to get a rise out of her. She was being too quiet.

And it worked. "Ew! Jerk!" She said, whapping him with her napkin. "First of all I'm still too sick and even when I'm not it's none of your business. Ew!"

"Just curious." Ha, there we go. "Still too sick?"

"For now. I went to the doctor, oh what is today…"

"Sunday. Wow, you are losing your mind sis."

"Shut up. Wednesday, I went to the doctor on Wednesday. She agrees with us but she had to run some blood tests to know how much medicine I should be taking. I should be able to start on it tomorrow though. Not that it will fix everything, but it should help a lot."

Okay, his last question had been to freak her out, this one wasn't. "Are you going to be able to, you know, have kids? I mean, my health teacher said that once you go through menopause that's, like, it."

"Natural menopause. No, the doctor said I probably will be able to make you an uncle, even though I might need help when the time comes. I just need to get healthy everything else first including my head, so right now babies are so not a priority. Don't expect it before you get out of high school."

Stephen smiled. He had been kind of worried about that for her. "That's cool. I just think you're going to make a great mom someday."

Milly smiled right back. "Thanks Stevie."

"Speaking of making babies though…" Yeah, he had to give her shit, it kept her awake. "…where are Thom and Spencer?"

"Back at the apartment. Thom got out of the hospital on Friday but he's still dealing with bandages and that kind of thing and he wasn't ready to go out yet. They said they'd join us next week. We can head back there after this, though, stay for dinner."

"Are you cooking?"

"Maybe."

"Can we order pizza?"

"Brat. And here I was thinking you were all grown up."

Stephen sobered a little. "You're the one who's all grown up."

"Just because I'm married?"

"No, because you're out insisting on two breakfasts and sitting in a really nice hotel with a bandanna on your head. You don't care if people think you're a freak anymore do you?"

MIlly thought about it. "No, not anymore."

Her brother nodded. "That's grown-up."


	66. Part 7: Chapter 66

**Chapter 66**

**Archstone Van Ness apartments  
3003 Van Ness St. NW  
Washington, DC  
02/26/06**

**Spencer**

While Milly was out with Stephen, Spencer cooked brunch for him and Thom at home. "So I've been thinking." Thom said as he munched on what seemed like an endless supply of French toast and bacon.

"That I made too much?"

"No, about sex; not a clue if you've been making too much of that or not."

"Nope, she's not up to it physically; hopefully by next week-end, depending on any psychological issues that might crop up."

"Don't you sound eager."

"I'm nineteen, I'm allowed." Spencer frowned. "What is up with you anyway?"

Thom frowned as he considered his bacon. "As weird as this is gonna sound, I never actually thought I'd get this fixed. Part of me figured I'd never find a doctor or I wouldn't be a good candidate or something. Now, you know, I actually have to think about it."

"Okay, and?" There was an and there, he could feel it.

"And I don't think I'm ready to go that far. The whole thing just seems…nasty."

"Nasty?"

"Yeah, I mean you've got body fluids going all over the place…I mean you do know exactly what happens there, right?"

"If you mean fluid-bonding then yes we do, and depending on the test results we're planning on it." The big question was if Milly was ovulating or not. Dr. Nair had said probably not but tests to be sure.

Thom shuddered. "I just don't know. Look, I know that now that I've got a working system it's going to want to be emptied from time to time, I just can't picture anything past doing it myself, maybe with a clean towel to tidy up after."

"The shower is usually good for that." Spencer pointed out. "I cannot believe I am watching you develop an exclusive paraphilia right in front of me."

"Yeah! The shower, perfect place," he chuckled a little. "Don't jump the gun there brother bear, it might still be preferred. I just want some more time to figure it out is all. Besides, it's only a disorder if it causes stress to you or harm to others. I assume you two still don't mind."

"I don't. MIlly already said she still wants to sit for you." Sit for him, polite family euphemism for letting him watch. "And if you want to experiment when the time comes…"

"Oh good, you two are so very lovely still. But I just don't think I'm ready to join in with her yet. And if you're going to be making a mess of the bed…"

"That is the plan."

"…then you two can sleep in it. I think I might want my own space. Besides, a husband and wife ought to have a place for themselves, even if they invite their kinky-assed friend in to play." Thom paused a moment. "Fluid-bonding, I assume that means you aren't interested in another guy in your life?"

"Actually no, I do still love you, you know…"

"Understood and returned."

"…but in that case I do think Eros was following Storge, it wouldn't stand on its own. I've…I've never been attracted to any other guys." He considered a moment. "I think that makes me a one on the Kinsey scale."

"More like a two, which makes you technically bi but that's all right, you'll sort it out some day. Hell, I still don't know if I'm a five or a six."

"I don't think I want to." Spencer replied, not realizing what he was saying until it came out.

"Huh?"

"I don't want to. I still believe in wanting the person first, regardless of gender. And I don't see any reason to change that."

"So don't." Thom settled back again. "Be who you are." Spencer started chuckling. "What?"

"Milly is straight, I'm bi, and you're both gay and have a paraphilia."

"So?"

"It only took us three years, six months and four days to confirm that we had the right answer all along."

* * *

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico, VA  
03/04/06**

On Monday he had taken everyone back to their respective doctors. Dr. Nair had confirmed their suspicions; Milly was indeed in menopause, or rather, given her age, Premature Ovarian Failure. The doctor had told them that because her ovaries were still intact and her brain was dumping large amounts of the hormones that ought to be kick starting them back on, there was a very good chance that she would spontaneously recover, and if not that she could still bear children with medical help. In the meantime being without hormones, estrogen in particular, was increasing her risk for a number of diseases and so she needed to be on hormone replacement therapy. Dr. Nair suggested they go for a year, to give the rest of her body and especially her mind a chance to heal and they see if her ovaries were ready to pick up the work again. They concurred with her opinion and gladly went to have the appropriate prescriptions filled.

Thom wasn't so lucky. He was healing fine according to Dr. Lloyd, but the swelling hadn't gone down enough for him to remove the contraption he was wearing. And said contraption made walking difficult and left him too embarrassed to go out. Milly was also uncomfortable with going out, her one experience with a hot flash in public had put a temporary end to extended shopping trips.

The end result was that Milly affixed a patch the size of a band-aid to her abdomen and set aside a pleasantly scented cream to rub into her shoulders the next morning. Then she and Spencer left Thom in the expert hands of the visiting nurse and went out and stocked the kitchen, picked up a library order, made sure they had enough movies on hand, stopped briefly for yarn, and headed home to roost. When he went back to work on Tuesday and immediately headed out on a case he knew that his family was comfortable and secure. "My only concern," he was able to tell Hotch when he asked, "is cabin fever."

That was Monday.

By Wednesday Thom reported that he was getting kinda bored, but Milly seemed to be feeling more of her old self. She was bustling around the place with something resembling her old energy and her cognitive abilities seemed to be returning. On Thursday he reported that she'd only wakened the night before for a nightmare, no night sweats. On Friday they caught the Unsub at last and Thom reported that Milly had stopped having hot flashes and was itching to go to the gym, although she couldn't until she gained back another five pounds, and that he finally got his contraption out but he still couldn't go to the gym for fear of tearing newly healed skin. He also reported that she had some mysterious errand due the next day.

"Errand?"

"I don't know; some collusion between her and Penelope."

Now it was Saturday. They were supposed to be home earlier this morning, but the plane had had issues. So now it was later than he would like and he was tired. He really just wanted to go home and veg out with some mac and cheese and Dr. Who. "Need a ride into the city?" Morgan asked as they dragged themselves through the lobby.

"No. Thom and Milly said they were going to come out and pick me up. Thom said they had some kind of surprise."

"Surprise?" Morgan was ahead of him. As soon as he got through the doors and had a look at the bullpen he started laughing. "Hello Red."

"What?" Spencer followed, took one look at his desk, and dropped his go-bag from a suddenly weak grip.

Milly had her hair done.

No more braids and bandannas. It hung in gentle, silken waves to the small of her back, and the worst of the damage had been cut and fashioned into bangs that drew attention to her eyes. And it was now an even richer and brighter flame red, a red that on her looked utterly natural and _right_. It set off the bright blue of her eyes and the cream of her skin which looked remarkably healthier than it had on Monday, it almost glowed.

And she'd tied it back with a green silk ribbon.

"I told you." Garcia said from the catwalk. "Carlos works miracles."

'What's his number?" Elle and JJ asked together.

"You know, you ever get bored with being married…" Morgan teased.

"Sorry." Milly said as she stepped into his arms and snuggled against him. When did his best friend, the girl who'd romped around CalTech at his side, become a beautiful woman? "I prefer geniuses."

Spencer was not going to complain about that.


	67. Part 7: Chapter 67

**Chapter 67**

**St. Alban's Church  
3001 Wisconsin Avenue NW  
Washington, DC  
03/05/06**

**Spencer**

The morning after the big surprise they finally all made it back to a Church & Brunch, just like old times. Well, mostly like old times, no Mark Bennett booming out the hymns in his crackling baritone any longer. But Stephen was thrilled to see his sister looking so much healthier and all done up in a dress to boot. "Yesss." He grinned as he hugged her. "You are so coming back! Finally!"

But then, only about a third of the way into the mass, Milly abruptly got up and left. "You go." Thom said. "I'm not up to running after her."

Milly hadn't gone far. She was sitting on a bench not far from the entrance. "What's wrong?" Spencer asked as he dropped down on a low wall in front of her.

"I can't anymore." She said. She wasn't sobbing or upset, if anything she was almost cold. Rational. "I know how important it was to Dad, but I just…can't. Everything that happened to me was done in the name of God, everything that happened to Thom was done in the name of God, everything that happened to every one of those girls was done in the name of God, and now I am afraid that the problem of Theodicy has just become irreconcilable."

"So you've finally become an Atheist?"

"I'm thinking more along the lines of Maltheist. If there is a deity out there he savors the suffering of humanity and should be mocked and scorned, not worshiped. Ergo I cannot in all good conscious sit there and give that monster any more of my energy."

"What are you going to tell Stephen?"

"How I feel. He has good teachers here; he's taking a theology course every year, he'll have everything he needs to make up his own mind. And the same thing goes for you and Thom, don't let my radical views force your judgment."

"They won't. We can both think for ourselves. You know, this might just be a reaction to all the trauma."

"It might. But if all this anger has to go somewhere I can't believe this is a bad direction."

"What about the wedding?"

Milly sighed. "I always thought a wedding was something between two people and their community so no deity needed. Would a nice place and a Justice of the Peace bother you?"

"Not at all."

* * *

**The Hay-Adams Hotel  
800 16th Street NW  
Washington, DC**

"We need to buy a house." Milly announced once they were all settled.

"We do?" Stephen asked.

"Okay, I need to buy a house."

"And why is that, peaches?" Thom asked.

"Well for one thing I think if you and I spend another week stuck in that small apartment we're going to have to turn MadScientist on people. And we won't have room for our minions."

"Good point."

"And for another, did any of you ever wonder why we spent so much time at the Langham?"

"Dad liked it." Stephen pointed out.

"I hate to speak ill of the dead but he kind of liked showing off." Thom pointed out.

Spencer considered it from the POV of a profiler. "To get away from Sharon?"

Molly pointed to him as the right one. "He really wanted to stay home, he told me that a few times, but every time we tried to spend time together as a family Sharon had to be the center of attention, and it always turned ugly. So he'd take us to the Langham for peace." She sighed and looked around. "As much as this is tradition now I really think he was looking forward to being able to come out here and just be at home with us, he would want us to have a comfortable home."

"In that case peaches I think you should start looking for a house." Thom said.

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Good." Milly smiled at all of them. "Because I have a meeting with a real estate agent on Monday."

That started them laughing. "Nice to see that the Baroness Millicent Railroad is back on schedule." Thom told her.

"Hey, at least We are benevolent royalty." She replied. "What do you want in a house, all of you?" She'd brought a long a notepad and now was taking notes, clearly serious about this.

"I want my own room." Stephen said. "Not just a guest room. And if it could be something like what you had that would be even better."

"A big kitchen." Thom said.

"I second that." Milly agreed.

Spencer considered a moment. "Easy access to some kind of mass transit stop, a train or a Metro station, preferably.

"In the city." Stephen spoke up again. "I'm really glad Mr. and Mrs. Hotch let us stay out there, but driving back and forth was a pain. I want to be close enough to do stuff."

"A room with north facing windows." Thom requested. "Something with a lot of light."

"Something for an art studio?"

"Please."

"I'd like a separate office." Spencer said. "Someplace I can lock up when I bring case files home."

"And I'd like an older home with at least one fireplace." Milly added. "And close to a gym or pool or someplace where I can work out."

"We're asking a lot." Thom pointed out. "How much is this going to cost d'you think?"

"Gary gave me a budget." Milly replied. "We have to work within it, for everything from the house to the furnishings, but I think we'll be good."

**Archstone Van Ness apartments  
3003 Van Ness St. NW  
Washington, DC  
03/06/06**

Thankfully the meeting with the realtor wasn't happing anytime early and Hotch had given them Monday off to make up for working Saturday. This allowed for lots of time to laze about in bed and admire the stunning women who was occupying the pillow next to him, her hair fanned out across it, setting it ablaze. He reached over to gently cup her jaw as she stirred and smiled sleepily. "Good morning."

"Good morning." He replied. "How did you sleep?"

"Like a rock." She slowly stretched herself further awake. "I always do when you're here."

"Good to know." He hesitated a little, but in the end he was as human as any man. "How do you feel?"

Her smile widened. "You mean how's my libido."

"Well, yes."

"Back. Better. But as much as it aches I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Remembering. Flashbacks." Milly sighed. "If I knew I wouldn't remember I think I'd want to very much. Is that weird?"

"No. About seventy-five percent of rape victims reject sexual expression for one to five years after the trauma, but twenty-five percent actually become more interested in sex. The theory is that they're trying to reclaim their body and sexuality, to take back what the rapist took." Spencer couldn't help it; he caught a lock of that soft flame and let it run through his fingers.

"That sounds about right. But I'm still scared."

"Is your therapist helping at all?"

"I think so. But it's slow, you know."

"I know. We have the rest of our lives."

"I know." She studied him a little. "Do you want me to sleep in another bed?"

That was an easy one. "Never."

"Good." And with that she snuggled into his arms again.

Eventually they had to untangle themselves from the sheets. They each took a turn in the bathroom to clean up a bit but scent of bacon was wafting through the apartment so they stayed in their pajamas and set out in search of it.

"Good morning." Thom said when they breeched the kitchen. He gave Milly a mock-stern look. "Either you are too quiet or…."

She turned russet red but grinned at him. "Patience, patience." She took a moment to snag tea and bacon. "When the time comes do you want to be there?"

"Maybe. Right now I don't even want to twitch. And you need to do what it takes to get healthy, so don't wait on me." He looked over at Spencer. "You I'm not worried about."

"Good." Spencer filled his mug at the coffee pot and stole some bacon from the tray before settling at the table across from Milly.

"I have a question for you two." She said. "Are you two going to get all weird about my buying the house?"

"Be more specific peaches."

"I mean there is this cultural 'I am man, I must provide for mate and family' thing that some guys have and when the woman in the family has more money or whatever they get all threatened and weird. I want to know if you two are going to do that."

Good question. Spencer thought about it a long moment while he got up and started setting the table for breakfast. "I don't think so." He said finally. "I know that even without your father's generosity I was able to afford, well, this apartment and some reasonable living expenses, and there was enough left in my Mother's accounts to cover Bennington until my salary increased enough to cover that as well. I could support us if I needed to."

"Same here, with regards to my salary next year." Thom said. "And given that I'm still on Medicare which is covering part of my hospital bills and still working part-time for the JPL , with the money your Dad left for me I could buy us a condo. "

"But I don't want a condo." Milly said into her tea. "I want a _house_."

"We know that." Thom replied. "The point is we're both secure in the knowledge that we could take care of our family. We're not going to feel threatened if you want to upgrade."

"Although I am beginning to wonder if this is just about living up to your father's legacy." Spencer said.

Milly was quiet a long moment. "I want to get settled. What was it Dr. King always said? Good science starts with good organization; you can't discover new things until your inner world is settled. I haven't felt settled since Dad died, everything's been…transitory, chaotic one way or another. I told myself while I was…a prisoner that the first thing I would do was gather my family back together, and then I was going to find someplace where we could plant ourselves, a safe haven that would never be taken away. And then, once I had that settled and organized I would go back out into the world and try to make sure places like that never existed again."

"How are you going to do that, peaches?"

"I don't know yet. That's step four, I'm still somewhere between steps one and two."

"I think if you want a house then you should buy a house." Spencer said. "It won't wound my male pride at all."

"Mine neither." Thom said. "But I expect compliments for the eggs."

"You'll get them." Milly replied. "And then we'll go buy a house."


	68. Part 7: Chapter 68

**Chapter 68**

**Archstone Van Ness apartments  
3003 Van Ness St. NW  
Washington, DC  
03/06/06**

**Spencer**

Thankfully the building had what they called a business center, including some meeting rooms. Milly had reserved a small one for them to use to meet with the realtor, since with Thom sleeping on the couch and all of their stuff, well, his place really did feel like a hotel room now.

The realtor, Monica something, was professional, well-dressed, about what you would expect. Gary Douran had recommended her but apparently had not warned her, so she was skeptical from the get-go. But she looked over their carefully prioritized list of what they were looking for. "When you say old here, how old do you mean?"

"As old as I can get it." Milly replied.

"Uh-huh. Well, there are some older houses outside of the DC area…"

"No, we want to stay in the city if we can."

"Okay, there are some here as well. Has your loan been pre-approved?"

"No, I'm paying cash."

"Uh-huh." Her body language said that she thought she was wasting her time, and was getting irritated about it. "Any idea about a budget?"

"Yeah." Milly opened the file she'd brought down with her to share some paperwork. "Gary said to keep it under eight million if we could."

Spencer stopped and blinked and looked over at Thom who was sitting and blinking right back at him. They knew Milly was a trust fund baby, but they also knew that Gary Douran was a careful and conservative money manager, so that had to be only a fraction of…of...okay then. He looked back at Milly, Milly who was sitting there in jeans and a t-shirt from a mail-order company out of Maine that used to specialize in outdoor stuff, who's only jewelry were a pair of pearl earrings, her Ravensworth ring and a watch chosen, he knew, not for the cost or the style but because it was highly accurate, something she needed when she performed experiments. She didn't fit the profile of an heiress, he thought. We'll have to take another look at that.

Monica's attitude had completely changed. "Oh, I think we can manage that, no problem. In fact…." She thought for a moment and then started checking something on her laptop. "Would a historic building interest you? Something on the National Historic Register? The problem with those is that you usually have to get permission from an historic architecture review board before you can remodel..."

"If it was the right house we wouldn't want to remodel."

"Right, right. This one does have all the features you're looking for I think, even though it's kind of an unusual property. It's certainly worth a look, which we can go do now if you like; it's only five minutes from here. And it is less than half your budget."

"Unusual property?" Thom asked.

"It's in what they call the Upper Rosedale subdivision, over in Cleveland Park. There are eight houses in this little walled and gated off area. It makes it tricky if you have a lot of guests, the parking for residents is good but not so much for parties, but at the same time if you're Bureau…" She looked over at Spencer, "The extra security might be a good thing. It also means there's an easement, everyone shares the main driveway, and there's a homeowner's association with dues, that kind of thing. Not much but it keeps up the driveway and the landscaping and gives you access to the tennis court and dog licenses for the park that's part of the property, that kind of thing. Still interested?" Spencer was relieved to see the others nodding, he wasn't going to complain about extra security. "All right, let's go."

* * *

**Rosedale Farmhouse  
3501 Newark St. NW  
Washington DC**

They saw the neighborhood through the trees in the park as they drove up, or at least part of it, a perfect Colonial farmhouse in butter yellow next to a sparkling white Victorian on a hill. "I wouldn't mind painting either one of those." Thom remarked. "They're pretty."

The fence around the small neighborhood was enough to keep out vehicle traffic, but you could still walk in through the park. Still, Spencer thought, it would make an Unsub have to work harder to get in or get someone out. Every little bit, right?

They pulled up to the back of the yellow farmhouse. On the other side of the long driveway were four more houses, and then a fourth was at the end. "There's one more building lot in the subdivision." Monica told them as she indicated the open space to the east of the property. "The Rosedale Conservancy, who owns the property, wants something that works with the historic nature of the park on that lot. So far all of the buyers have proposed McMansions in the modern style."

"The Rosedale Conservancy?" Spencer asked.

"This land was originally part of Rosedale Farm. General Uriah Forrest and his wife Rebecca bought the property in, oh, 1793 while he was serving in Congress as a retreat away from the city as it was then."

"1793? So he served with…"

"With George Washington himself, yes. He and Rebecca built the farmhouse that now makes up the front of the building, a stone cottage had been built by a Maryland settler sometime in the 1730's which is now the back part of the house. It's the oldest house in DC." By the time Monica finished Milly was grinning, clearly utterly enchanted. "The property stayed in the hands of the Forrest family until 1920. In 1927 it was renovated for termite damage, a renovation led by Frank Lloyd Wright who designed the kitchen section uniting the two buildings. They also added the guest cottage," She indicated the house at the end of the drive. "which was already sold separately. The Forrest family sold the property in 1920 and it changed hands a few times until it was purchased by the National Cathedral School for Girls in 1959 who put up a number of dormitory buildings on this part of the property. They sold it to Youth For Understanding, an exchange student program in 1980. In 2000 YFU went bankrupt and were going to sell the property off to a developer, but there was clause in the original sale that said that the neighborhood association would have the first right of buy-back if they could match the big. They did and bought the property. They tore down the dormitories and sold off those lots to buyers who would preserve the character of the neighborhood, and used the proceeds to turn the open space into a part and restore the farmhouse. So you see," She finally finished, "Changing around the outside of the house is going to be quite a bit of trouble."

"I don't see why I'd want to." Milly told her. "It's absolutely perfect."

Monica smiled. "Come look at the inside. Now indulge me, I'm taking you in what we call the 'friends' entrance first." There was a porch at the back, inside one gate and surrounded by a neat brick walk and garden beds, now dormant for the winter. "This was the 1730's cottage. You said you wanted at least one fireplace, someplace cozy against the snow."

The room was cozy all right. The ceiling was a bit low, and beamed in with smoked darkened wood, and the walls were made of thick stone covered in creamy plaster. "It's almost adobe." Milly murmured, referring to the old Spanish colonial homes in her native California, now mostly museums. "That's good for the weather. Oh." She sighed with delight as she saw the fireplace. It was deep and old and still had the original iron pieces, including the kettle arm, and the original mantle.

"Now this space." Monica led them to the other side of the fireplace wall, deeper into the house. "Was once a bedroom, as was the other but that's been turned into a three-quarter bath. This space is kind of awkward, but it's right off the kitchen, which I will be showing you last, so it would probably make an excellent playroom. Something a couple of newlyweds ought to think about. Now watch your head." It was a couple of steps up into the next room, and Spencer indeed had to duck his head to get through the low doorway. "This is what we call the family entrance. It's right off the small kitchen garden, accessible from both the back parking area and the park out front, leads right into the kitchen, and makes a fantastic mudroom." But there was a folding screen up at that end. "Patience, patience, indulge me. Upstairs." She led them up the back stairs which made up one side of the entrance hall to a landing with a door. "Now an artist needs a proper garret." She opened the door and shooed them in, Thom first.

The attic space above the playroom was a simple, smallish bedroom type space, with its own bathroom opposite, above the one downstairs. But when you went around the chimney the larger space was filled with this perfect, pearly light coming through the north window. "Wow." Thom murmured as he looked around the space. There was ample room for his drafting table, storage, perhaps a place to pose a model. Or two. "I may have to borrow that futon of yours, brother bear." He told Spencer.

"Borrow away." Milly had her cozy fireplace room, Thom has his studio. That was two things off the list already and they had only seen the back third of the house.

"This way." Monica said. She led them back out of the garret and up a shorter flight of stairs into the upstairs hall. "Now on either side of the hall there is a bedroom suite, each having a bedroom, a sitting room and a bathroom. Technically we can't call the sitting rooms bedrooms because they don't have closets, but if you want to put beds in all of them no one would complain."

They wandered through each. "More fireplaces." Milly commented. "How many are in the house?"

"Ten total, which is good because in most of the house they're the only source of heat. There is radiant flooring in the bathrooms, the laundry room and the kitchen, all of which were updated in the renovation last year. Now down here…" They were at the front of the house, an open area at the top of the front stairs. "…is what they have down as the upstairs study. Again, no closet, but it's upstairs and well away from the family areas." She opened the door and shooed them in, this time indicating Spencer first.

It was a comfortable room, with another fireplace with windows on either side, and a third window just the right height to be above a desk. The door was in the third wall leaving one interrupted wall that would be perfect for a case board. And tucked away like this guests would be less likely to come poking around if they wanted to borrow a stapler or something. "Very nice." He admitted. It would make the perfect at-home workspace.

"Uh-huh. Now over here is the master suite." Monica led them across the hall. "The bathroom was completely renovated, the fixtures are new and the shower is state-of-the-art." It was too, a glass cube with the kind of shower that would rain on you, or pulse water from all directions. Spencer could see Thom's eyes widen as he began to picture what someone might look like in there. On the other side was a clawfoot tub big enough for two people to cuddle or one very tall person to stretch out. His inner amphibian approved. The bedroom past it had its own fireplace, and was big enough for everything they could want.

Downstairs and they were in the more formal part of the house. "Now all of this is original, although it was carefully renovated." Monica said. "The floors in here are original, as well as the windows and the trim work." In here was the foyer, a formal parlor, a dining room and what she called the owner's office, which opened off the foyer.

"I kind of like this." Milly said. "It might work well with some ideas I've been having. I may have to claim that one." She had a good look around then stepped across the hall. "Ohh! A library!" They all went over to have a look. Not a huge space, but wall to wall and floor to ceiling built-in shelves. "I didn't even think formal library." She said, but it was utterly perfect.

"Now technically this is the back wall of the original farmhouse. The space between the kitchen and the stone cottage was filled in during the Frank Lloyd Wright renovation. You did say you were from Pasadena, right?" Monica said as she led them into the kitchen and then folded up the screen between it and that back mudroom. That nearly sold it, the kitchen was a warm, comfortable place, with cabinets and built-in furniture done in the arts-and-crafts style that Pasadena was known for, that would have been common at Bloomsbury Park back in the early part of the 20th century. But at the same time it was big enough for two or three people to work comfortably, and have room for children to run around as well. The breakfast area was tucked into its own niche, surrounded by windows, and would comfortably seat a crowd. It was all kind of utterly perfect.

And then Milly peeked out the kitchen window. "Is that…?" She asked. Then she grinned and dashed outside. They followed and found her almost beside herself with excitement, looking over a small swimming pool. "Is this part of the property?" She asked.

"Yes, as well as the hot tub. And you have access to the tennis court across the drive and the park out front. Three acres of green space in the heart of DC."

"Is that the Cathedral?" Thom asked, nodding toward the only building in view.

"Yes, it's about a ten minute walk from here." Monica noticed the look on their faces. "What?"

"My brother is at St. Alban's." Milly told her. St. Albans's was on the Cathedral grounds.

"If I'm right we're about the same distance from the Cleveland Park Metro stop." Spencer pointed out. That would actually put him one stop closer to work from here.

"Yes." Monica agreed. "Well, would you all like some time to talk about it?"

Spencer looked at his loves. It didn't seem like there was much to talk about. From the looks on their faces they had finally found their home.

* * *

.

* * *

**Note: **The Rosedale Farmhouse is a real place, although I modified one attic space to make an artists garret. If you want to have a look at the real estate flyer or virtual tour I have links up on the LJ account.


	69. Part 7: Chapter 69

**Chapter 69**

**Rosedale Farmhouse  
3501 Newark St. NW  
Washington DC  
03/06/06**

**Spencer**

"I wonder how many hours we've spent sitting on a porch waiting for Milly." Thom said. Then he quickly held up his hand. "Do not answer that, rhetorical question."

Spencer could have answered that, but he was quite happy that he didn't have to. The porch needed a swing, really. Something he could lounge in like he used to, with Thom perched on the porch rail nearby, and then eventually Milly coming to curl up on the swing with him. Here they wouldn't be looking out over the street though; here it was all park and trees with the Cathedral in the distance. "This porch needs a swing." He said.

"It does." Thom agreed. "Do you think this is crazy of her? I mean this is kind of a lot of house."

"It's well within the budget Mr. Douran gave her."

"Yeah, but she shouldn't spend all her money…"

"She's not. Mr. Douran sold the house in Pasadena for sixteen million, she and Stephen each got half to buy their own homes. That's on top of whatever is in the trust fund."

Thom whistled. "I never thought. I mean that place was big, but I never thought." He was quite a moment. "Still, is it crazy? I mean, is she reacting to the trauma and all that?"

"Possibly partially; on the one hand she always wanted an older home, and she was looking at practical aspects, commuting distance, number of bedrooms…."

"She could have gotten all that in a condo."

"Part of it could be the desire to nest, to root herself in some place that feels permanent. Condos and apartments usually don't for one reason or another. And part of it could be the idea of beating the monster at his own game, still. I'm good at my life and good at yours at the same time, so everything you said is a lie."

"Great."

"The big concern with that is will she be happy with her decisions and choices when she finally moves past that. I think in this case she will be for the most part."

"Most part?"

"I would not be surprised if she hires a cleaning service once she goes back to work."

Thom chuckled, "Yeah, but otherwise?"

"Otherwise it has everything she always said she wanted in a house. It just costs so much because it's right in the city, if it was an hour out it would be half a million at most."

"Which would sound a lot closer to reasonable to my ears," Thom admitted. "I wonder what else she's going to come up with."

"Well, what did your mother tell your sisters was important?" Spencer asked.

"Keeping a clean house, keeping their time organized, keeping a garden, cooking from scratch, being able to do woman's things like quilting and knitting, and being faithful to Stoddard and the Lord, in that order. Somehow I don't think she's going to be in to that last."

"No, but this has provoked a crisis of faith, which is probably one of the safer directions for her to release this. I wouldn't be surprised if she started doing all of that. She has that binder she carries around…"

"My Momma had one a lot like it; I just haven't wanted to say anything."

"…she'll probably fuss over getting everything set up just so when we move in, then she'll want to learn to cook, start going to the greenmarket every week, Garcia's already teaching her how to knit. And it wouldn't surprise me if she started studying philosophy, trying to make sense of it all."

"What happens when she finally realizes that no one in Stoddard's camp gives a shit?"

"She'll probably move on to what matters to her. Work maybe, or volunteer work. Right now she can easily live off the investment income, we barely touched what Gary Douran was giving us to spend on her, she's really not that…that…"

"High maintenance," Thom added helpfully. "Are you bothered by the thought of her carrying you? 'Cause it's kind of bothering me."

That was a good question. Spencer considered it. "I'm going to suggest that we all pay into a fund for food and utilities and at least part of the insurance and taxes, maybe what we would have paid for rent on my apartment. We ought to be covering our expenses. "

"Do you really think that's going to cover the taxes on this place? Well, she did want the upgrade."

"I think if it's going to be a problem Mr. Douran will say so."

"True that." Just then Milly came around the house and walked up to them, all wound up with nerves. "Well peaches?"

"I'm buying it." She said, looking like she might burst. "And the property next door. Gary said it would be an excellent investment. "

"The property next door?" Thom pointed to the white Victorian just barely visible on the other side of the hedge.

"No, the empty lot over there, assuming I can pass the architectural review."

"What are you putting there?"

"A kitchen garden, something fenced that will fit the historical nature of the site. Maybe a small greenhouse, chickens, a small orchard…what?" She looked from him to Spencer and back.

"Nothing," Spencer and Thom exchanged looks again. A-nesting we will go.

"You two," she settled where she could look at both of them. "This porch needs a swing. I feel like I'm panicking, like I ought to be panicking."

"Why?" Spencer asked.

"Because this is huge! I do not spend money well; you two know that I do not spend money well. Spencer you weren't there when I spent four months sweating out my choice of a car…"

"Mark wanted her to buy a Mercedes." Thom told him, "Or a Jag. But she ended up with a Honda."

"It was very safe, got great gas mileage, had a 4-wheel drive option for going out to collect samples and I could hose out the back after collecting trips." Milly said, summing up her choice. "This is, like, millions of times bigger than a car, literally."

"The question is," Spencer said. "Is it everything you ever wanted in a home?"

She looked up at the front door, a combination of longing and fear on her face. "Yes. But it's just a building. It's more about everyone in it. Everyone has to be a part of it."

"Which is why we want in peaches," Thom replied. "We're paying into the monthly expense fund, like it or not. Hey!" She was going to object but he stopped her. "It's our home too, we want a buy in." Spencer vigorously nodded his agreement.

"Really?" She looked at them both, "Really?"

"Yes." Spencer said, pulling her into his arms. "This is going to be for all of us, we're all going to make this work."

"Ohhh!" She very nearly started sniffling on them. "I'm hoping it won't be that much work…"

"On the Baroness Millicent Railroad?" Thom asked her, teasing gently. "What's in those meds you're taking?"

"Not _emotional_ work!" Milly replied, rolling her eyes at him. "I just have a good feeling that we'll be happy here."

"I think so too peaches." Thom said.

"So do I." Spencer kissed her on the temple.

"Oh." Milly turned to look at him. "They have a neighborhood pumpkin carving party every year in the park. They're hoping we'll host."

Spencer couldn't help it. "Yesss! And we're decorating the house!" He would make this into the spookiest haunted house to ever creepy out small children.

"Oh boy," Thom smiled and shook his head. "At least it's a nice lawn for a soccer ball. We're gonna have enough room, I think we ought to get a dog."

"Agreed," Milly said, "If we can find one that likes Spencer."

Just then Monica came around to the front porch. "I spoke to the historic preservation board representative again." She said. "She spoke to the others and said they love the idea of a kitchen garden and orchard and that you should draw up the proposal for next month's meeting but you're probably a dead lock for it. Assuming you actually want the house?"

Milly took a deep breath. "I do. And Gary said I could offer a five percent bonus if you can work with him and close in less than fourteen days."

Monica gave her a very satisfied smile, "Oh that I can do."


	70. Part 7: Chapter 70

**Chapter 70**

**Ravensworth House  
3501 Newark St. NW  
Washington DC  
03/22/06**

**Milly**

Monica managed to earn her bonus by closing on the house in twelve days; practically a record, or so she insisted. They spent the intervening time happily collecting stuff to feather their nest, shuttling to the still important doctor and therapy appointments, and Milly joined Garcia at her knitting group. "I have a peer group!" She cooed when she got back, "An actual, female peer group! I always wanted one!"

They tried not to laugh at her too hard.

Of course it wasn't all a bed of roses. The first hurdle they had to cross was the historic preservation board. That turned out to be an easy one. Four other people were trying to buy the same property; all four had designs for immense houses almost the size of the one Mark Bennett had owned back in Pasadena. All of them overwhelmed the park and were the wrong style for the neighborhood. Then the representative Milly had hired stood up with her sketch of a fenced garden and fruit orchard, emphasizing that she'd be willing to work with the same landscape artist who had worked on the park and that she was willing to lease the lower part of the property back to the Conservancy to be included in the park as long as she owned the property. That pretty much sold it right there. By the end of the night Milly had her garden.

The second hurdle was just as easy, if not nearly as satisfying. Hotch called Spencer into his office. "I was just talking with Chief Strauss. She wanted to be certain that your marriage was legal."

"What did you tell her?"

"That it was; that I was a witness and that you could produce the relative paperwork on demand."

"Does she want to see it?"

"No. But she also pointed out that an Agent who is legally married and behaving with integrity shouldn't hide the fact." Hotch must have read his micro-expression of confusion, "Wedding ring."

Spencer sagged. "We were going to wait until the ceremony…."

"I understand. But unless it's going to upset Milly that might not be worth crossing Strauss."

Sigh.

* * *

The combination of those two incidents explained how Milly happened to be standing in her garden talking with the landscape agent while wearing a wedding ring when a voice behind her spoke up. "You have your father's hair."

Milly turned and looked at the woman standing there. Her hair was long and straight and iron grey, and she wore a variation on that now-hated two-piece dress. But the woman's face…now Milly knew what she'd look like when she grew older. She politely excused herself from the meeting with the landscaper and sent a quick text on her phone. "Patricia Gault."

The woman nodded. "And you're Millicent Bennett." She said like she was saying the name for the first time, "My daughter."

"Millicent Reid, actually." Great, now what. "This is unexpected."

"We had some business in DC, my husband and I. I thought I'd stop by, got your address from the lawyers."

Mental note. "I heard they cleared you of all charges. I understand you were deceived on all sides."

"I just wanted what was best for you."

"Right. I, um, appreciate that. Although I'll suggest that the next time you want to do something for me, call and ask first; unless that's why you're here. Why are you here?"

"Can't a mother come and talk to her daughter?"

"After not speaking to me, ever, referring to me as 'your shame' and sending me off to an unregulated group home, um, not really, no." This was deeply uncomfortable. "If I'd have known you were coming I would have unpacked my kettle, we could at least have tea. The place is kind of a mess right now. I would have had my husband here to meet you as well."

"Well, that would have been nice. Maybe I can meet him if you come out to Chillicothe. We're planning on being there."

Hello, light bulb. "Ah, that's what this is about. You came to talk to me about my deposition?"

Patricia took a deep breath. "Pastor Lakeworth and Pastor Sherman are good men…

"Lakeworth and Sherman are sick, demented freaks. Besides, they plead guilty. Who put you up to this?"

"Pastor Stoddard asked me to come speak with you, as your mother."

"Samuel Stoddard?"

"Yes."

"Well it's not going to help. I'm going to testify in the sentencing hearing."

"They are men of God who were just trying to teach you girls…."

"By beating us? By poisoning us? By molesting…"

"Stop!" Patricia had gone rigid, her hands balling into fists. "It's all lies!"

"No, it's not. I was there, I observed what happened and I've been observing the effects. "

"It's not true! A man of God wouldn't do that!"

"Yes, it is true. That's what I do, that's part of my job as a scientist, observe the facts, the truth, and report it back. And that's what I did in my deposition and I'm not going to go to Chillicothe and recant. I stand by what I said." Milly went to go into the house; maybe there was something to help her at least be polite. Wait… She turned back. "Is that why his lawyer keeps filing all these motions to delay, because they're trying to intimidate the witnesses? That's not going to work on me."

Patricia was clearly growing more frustrated. "Millicent, I am your mother…."

"No, you're not." Milly said, calmly.

That stopped her. "What?"

"I know the common definition of 'mother' in this country is someone who spreads her legs one night and then doesn't have an abortion but in my culture a mother is someone who loves you and is there for you when you're a vulnerable child and who does their best to care for you and help you become the most successful adult you can be. You don't make that cut. So I will gladly call you Mrs. Gault or Patricia as you prefer but I'm not calling you mother."

"How dare you?"

"Easily. You didn't earn it. And coming here with the intent of asking me to recant my testimony is not gaining you any points."

Patricia took another deep breath. "The Lord said to honor thy father and thy mother and…"

"I don't care." Yep, still calm.

"What?"

"I'm not a Christian. And I have no desire to become one or to have you pray for me. And this is not coming out of ignorance or some flailing on Dad's part, he raised me in the Episcopal church, had me take Sunday school classes, the whole bit. But between reading the bible and observing the behavior of his most devout followers both through history and up close and personal your god is a god of deceit and destruction and hatred and pain and I want nothing to do with him. That includes blindly honoring someone who doesn't deserve it just because they share your DNA because he said so."

"Lakeworth was right!" Patricia hissed. "You do have the hardened heart of the harlot within you!"

"Possibly," Milly smiled at her politely. "Now, was there anything else you wanted to speak to me about?"

"I wish I had aborted you! I wish you had never been born!"

"Thankfully Dad disagreed. I know he was always proud of me. If we're done I'll ask that you leave my property given that the police are already on their way."

"Heretic!"

"True"

"Whore!"

"I actually prefer Dr. Reid these days."

This continued until DC Metro magically arrived and politely escorted Patricia Gault out of the neighborhood. Only then did Milly pull her phone out of her pocket. "Did you get all that Penelope?"

"I did," said the voice on the other end. "That's witness tampering right there. Oh sweetie I am so sorry."

"Don't be." Milly caught sight of the gold ring on her finger and smiled. "I have a family."


	71. Part 7: Chapter 71

**Chapter 71**

**Lila Archer's home  
Los Angeles, CA  
03/31/06**

**Spencer**

Next obstacle.

"Go grab a suit in the house." Lila ordered.

Yes, Lila Archer was hot; he was not going to deny that. Yes, Spencer had been flattered that she was flirting with him. But that didn't mean he was going to cheat on Milly with her, not a chance in hell. Nor was he going to drop his guard for any reason, a FBI agent didn't do that. Ever. "No! I'm not going to go grab a suit! Are you kidding me? No!"

"Join me."

"No! I'm not going to join you."

"Why not?"

"You're being perused by a psychotic killer who shoots people in the head."

Lila huffed in frustration. "I'm not going to stop living my life, I'm just not."

Sigh. "Lila, I'm begging you, will you please get out of the pool."

"Really Spence, you should live a little."

"Live a little? I've known you 48 hours, I feel like I've already aged 10 years."

"Oh, I can't be that bad."

"Yes, you are that bad." Why oh why did he have to pull this assignment. Why?

Lila groaned and swam over. "Fine, will you help me out at least?'

Thank you God, your friend Spencer Reid. He reached down to help her and…

Wait. Retract that.

"Yes, very funny. Laugh it up Lila. It's hilarious. My gun is wet, great." She kept laughing as he put his gun on the side of the pool to hopefully prevent his loaner from becoming somehow irreparable. "My clothes," there was no help for it; he was soaked to the skin. Now he was going to have to tell Morgan and Elle everything that happened and have someone bring his go bag from the hotel so he could change. Just great.

And then Lila's arms were around his neck. And then she was kissing him.

"This is completely inappropriate." This was bad, this was bad, this was soooo bad. This was bad because he was a FBI agent and she was a witness and this was against all the rules. And this was bad because Milly was still having flashbacks and Thom was still healing his skin graft and he was only human.

"Yes it is." She agreed with him as she kissed him again.

"This isn't…" But then she kept going and yes, all right fine, for a moment he didn't want it to stop. He didn't want it to stop. But then he pushed her away because while he wanted this was not what he wanted. "I'm married."

"What?"

"I'm married." He showed her the ring on his finger. "See."

Lila looked at him for a long moment. "So?"

"What do you mean so?"

"She doesn't have to know." She moved in to kiss him again.

"No." No, no one got to take something from someone in his tribe. Not anyone. Not ever. Not even him. He pushed her away again. "I am not cheating on my wife, all right. This is not going to happen."

"Sure?" She floated back into his arms, "Because your body is saying something else."

The problem was that she was right. It was. And he really, honestly did not know what to do here, Galois House had never prepared him for this particular experience. And then all of a sudden he knew how. It was hard and cruel but if he had to choose between hurting this girl who was nice but really a stranger and hurting Milly. "Stop. I have to tell you something…."

* * *

**Firehook Bakery & coffee  
3411 Connecticut Avenue NW  
Washington, DC 20008  
04/02/06**

"How am I supposed to tell her?" Spencer demanded.

"With words," Thom replied. "Preferably in English but, you know, French. Spanish, Latin…"

"I don't think I could get this into Latin."

"Why not just tell her?"

"Because I don't want her to feel rushed or pushed into doing something she's not ready to do yet. She needs to heal at her own pace."

"Granted. What is her problem anyway?"

"Flashbacks, she's terrified of them."

"Understandable. So how do you prevent flashbacks?"

"Avoid triggers and stay grounded in the present. She's afraid flashbacks are going to be triggered by the sensation of touch…"

"So you minimize or avoid every other trigger and try to help her stay grounded through." Thom nodded. "Sounds like you two could use a wingman for this."

Spencer groaned. "No, you cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll…He looked around and lowered his voice. "You'll tear your skin graft, that's why."

"I seriously doubt it. Do you have any idea how many anti-testosterone meds I'm on?"

"No."

"Enough to take out the entire soccer team; I couldn't tear this thing if I watched you in that shower."

"Something to look forward to," Spencer groaned, he did not just say that. "Maybe I should start dipping into your supply."

"Not if you want to go to work. Look, I'm a big boy; I know how to take care of myself. Let's give it a try, if it starts feeling like anything is pulling I'll get out of there and calm it down. I'll even leave you the big, fancy shower for your cold one."

"Jeeze, thanks." Spencer just groaned.

"If we don't you're just going to end up blowing a gasket and if you blow in the direction of one of your Unsubs there is going to be enough paperwork to drown your department, you know that."

"I know, I know. What if Milly says no? She needs to be able to say no."

"We'll cross that bridge if we get to it. But bring her one of those fudge cakes anyway, it might help."

* * *

**Ravensworth House  
3501 Newark St. NW  
Washington DC**

Later that night Spencer lay back in his bed, completely sated, his dozing wife a warm weight on his chest in the dying glow of the firelight. "We owe you, you know."

Thom unfolded himself from the foot of the bed to sit. "You can make it up to me on July 11th if all goes well. I should be good to go by then."

"I thought it was too squishy."

"Well maybe you two changed my mind. Besides, that shower is big enough for two."

That sounded remarkably entertaining, "Deal." Except… "Milly. I just don't…"

"Feeling a mite possessive are you?" Spencer nodded. "Don't worry; we're not interested in that." Thom smiled. "She did say she would sit for me, the real deal. I'm thinking of trying working in color."

"I'd love to see that."

"Good, 'cause no one else will."

"Mmmm," Spencer was settling nicely into the mattress. At this point a horde of Unsubs could dance their way through the bedroom and he might not care.

"I'm losing you, aren't I?"

"Mmm-hmm."'

"Good. I'm going to go have another piece of that cake." Thom stopped, bent over and kissed Spencer fierce and hard, enough to cause Milly to twitch and murmur in her sleep. He passed a gentle hand over her hair to calm her before straightening him. "Good night brother bear."

"G'night."

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** Some dialogue taken from _Criminal Minds_ episode 01x18 "Somebody's Watching". No copyright infringement intended.


	72. Part 7: Chapter 72

**Chapter 72**

**Stafford County Courthouse  
1300 Courthouse Dr.  
Stafford VA  
04/18/06**

**Spencer**

There had been an inquest, of course. But with the local cop's testimony he'd been cleared of any charges. He'd done everything right, it was a good shoot. Unfortunately John Hartmann was dead as a result of his own choices.

Matt Matruka's crew had pled out and had already been sentenced, but Matt along with Peter and Andrew Hartmann were actually going to trial for assault with intent to rape and assault with intent to kill. And Spencer and his tribe had taken turns testifying on the stand all day. It was long and more exhausting than you would expect, but they took it as scientists, reported the facts, tried not to color it with their emotions. And the facts won out, all three were found guilty.

"I'm not sure how I feel about this." Thom said before they left the courthouse.

"Oh?" Spencer asked.

"I can't say they're lying in the bed they made; I know my father and Stoddard put them up to it. On the other hand this might be the only way to break them away from the cult."

"I think the only thing to do is stay open." Milly said, "If any of them honestly want out we'll help, you know that."

"I know. I know."

The calmness lasted until the lobby. As they watched, a short, older woman in one of those two piece dresses detached herself from another group, strode over, and slapped Thom hard across the face. "You little pervert!" She cried at him. "You're no son of mine! I don't want you for a son!" Two officers immediately came over and pulled her off, tugging her away. "I wish the Lord would have blasted you from my body! I wish you had never been born!"

Thom watched her go with sad eyes. "Thanks Mom." He said quietly once she was gone.

Milly immediately put her arm around him. "We still love you, no matter what."

"I know." He replied, his eyes a little damp. "And I am grateful. But I had hoped it was just Dad…"

"I know." Spencer put his arm around his loves. "I know."

* * *

**Ravensworth House  
3501 Newark St. NW  
Washington DC**  
**04/22/06**

"Where is he?" Spencer asked for the fifth time that evening.

"He said he was going to go do something he always wanted to do." Milly replied as she set the cake on the cake stand. "He said he'd be back by supper."

"I know but…." They heard a rumbling noise outside, an almost familiar rumbling noise; a rumbling noise that begged investigation.

The rumbling noise turned out to be Thom. "Isn't she a beauty?" He said as he got off the motorcycle. "Harley Davidson Sportster Iron 883 Model XL883N. Got an 883cc engine, drag handlebars, a chopped rear fender and a custom total Black Denim finished." He was just grinning at the thing. "I've been saving since I got my first job as a TA for this beast, always said this would be the day I brought it home."

"How's the skin graft?" Milly asked.

"It's had enough for the day, thank you peaches." He ran a hand over the gas tank.

"You do realize the obvious symbolism for freedom here." Spencer said as he walked around the machine. It truly was a beauty, even he knew that.

"Yes I do. But I am eighteen as of today and I am free so the symbolism works. No more judges, no more social workers, no more birth family. I've got you two and this as soon as I am healthy I am checking out this end of the country and hopefully you two will tag along."

"On the bike?" Spencer had to tease.

"No, in the green tank over there," Thom nodded to Milly's recently replaced Honda Element.

"I wouldn't mind scrounging around for a few more things for the house." She admitted, "Back roads antiques kind of thing. But this jacket here…." She walked around Thom, admiring the leather jacket he was wearing to go with the bike. "It needs a patch or two."

"A patch?" He bit. "Anything in particular?"

"Ohhh, maybe the kind of thing they give spacecraft designers." She handed him the envelope she'd been hiding behind her back.

Thom looked it over, noting the NASA return address, the slight lumpiness of the envelope. "Nu-uh." He murmured as he ripped it open. He looked and his grin grew wider and wider…. "Hell yes!" It was a letter confirming that their team's experiment and designs had been accepted and would be part of the _Curiosity_ mission to Mars. And with that came his very own Mission Patch. He threw his arms around Milly and spun her off her feet. "She's going to Mars peaches! My baby is going to Mars!" He put her down so they could get Spencer in on the wild hug too, "Happy birthday to me!"

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** I'll put a link to a page with pictures of Thom's bike and the _Curiosity_ mission patch on the LJ account. The missing scene from Chapter 71 is up there as well.


	73. Part 7: Chapter 73

**Chapter 73**

**BAU Headquarters  
FBI Building  
Quantico VA  
05/12/06**

**Spencer**

In the end it was the letters that caused it all. From the time he left Galois House to the day Milly disappeared he had written to her and Thom nearly every day, letters carefully couched so as not to give away his true feelings while they were still minors. But it was his letters to his mother, the letters written every day to assuage his guilt about leaving her in Bennington, that almost did him in. Because she read them to Randall Garner and bragged on him and Garner twisted them to fit his Round Table myths and that nearly destroyed them when he blew himself to heaven.

The one good thing, other than the release of Gardner's daughter Rebecca was that it brought Diana Reid to DC.

It was all too much at the end. She had a bit of an episode, forgot who he was, where she was, what she was doing. He sat in the meeting room and chatted with her much as a student would chat with a visiting professor for a while, talk of Tristan and Isolde, Margery Kemp, Piers Ploughman, until she finally grew quiet, and then, "Spencer. What was I just saying?"

"We were talking about Tristan, Mom."

"Why? No, it doesn't matter. Do I have to go back to Las Vegas right away?"

"Well, I don't know if you should be out of the hospital for days…"

"Not days, hours. Given that you're not likely to get me on a plane again I'd like to see your house and meet your family."

Ah. "I'll go see what I can do."

* * *

**Ravensworth House  
3501 Newark St. NW  
Washington DC**

"I hope you like pot roast." Spencer said as he showed Diana into the kitchen.

"Not my favorite but when you're rude and invite yourself you take what you can get." She told him. "This is a lovely home Spencer, but isn't it kind of big?"

"It is." Milly said as she left her office, clearly following the voices. "I consider it the last gift my father gave me. He always was a generous man."

Oh hell. Etiquette dictated that you were always supposed to introduce the person of lesser rank to the person of higher first. Now who outranked who, your mother or your wife? After a moment Spencer gave up. "Mom, this is Milly, um, Dr. Millicent Bennett Reid." He said after stammering for a bit. "Milly, this is my mother, Diana, um, Dr. Diana Reid."

"Doctor," they both said together, and then laughed. "I'm sorry I'm intruding." Diana said rather formally, "But I happened to be in the neighborhood and I did want to meet you and your family."

"I'm sure there's quite a story behind that." Milly said with a smile. "You are always welcome, no matter what."

"Lovely to know."

Milly looked over at Spencer. "Thom went to pick up Stephen; they should be back at any time. Want to set the table?"

"Um, sure."

Diana actually set her bag down. "Let me help, I insist."

* * *

Later they sat around the table in the cozy kitchen, having sated themselves on good, healthy food and even better talk. "You know what I wish." Diana said at a lull in the conversation.

"What Mom?" Spencer asked.

"I wish I would have been healthy when you were growing up. Oh for many reasons, but in particular I would have gone out to CalTech with you, taken a position there or at one of the other universities in the area. One thing I do regret was not being there to watch you three grow up. It would have been wonderful to see. But I am very proud of how you turned out. All of you."

"Thanks Mom." Spencer could feel his eyes starting to get a little misty, and from the expressions on Thom and Milly's face they were feeling the same way.

"That said I'm almost glad I've been in Bennington." Diana admitted. "I don't think my heart could have taken all of the adventures you've been having."

"Do you want me to keep sharing?" Spencer asked, a little concerned.

"Yes, of course! Just in letters dear, I think I need the buffer. Now there are two things I want to say before I go back. And the first one is…" She reached out and put her hand on Thom's shoulder. "Did you know that Spencer had an imaginary friend when he was growing up?"

Spencer groaned as Thom shook his head. "No, Ma'am."

"He did, Riley. Kind of a younger brother, they were very close. Now if I had been in anything resembling my right mind back when your grandfather died I would have come out to adopt you. I would have been very proud to have you as the younger brother he always wanted."

Now Thom's eyes were flat out shiny. "Thank you Ma'am." His voice grew kind of gentle and tentative, something he never did. "You know, given the way my family feels…"

"Which is utterly ridiculous."

"…we've been thinking about changing my name…"

"Do it." Diana reached up and ruffled his hair. "Do it with my blessing. I would be proud to say that I had two remarkable boys. And…" She turned to Milly and put a hand on her shoulder. "…an exceptional daughter-in-law. I highly approve of Spencer's choice in wives."

"Thank you." Milly was almost flat-out crying. "What are you supposed to call your mother-in-law anyway, Mom?"

"Why not?" Diana asked. "I would happily answer to that from any and all of you. Even you," she said to Stephen. "My…my son-in-law or something; you're part of this too." The clock on the mantle struck the hour. "Oh, I have to get back on that plane, don't I?"

"I'm afraid so." Spencer admitted. "But I'm going to fly back with you, to make sure you get home safely."

Diana groaned. "At least I'll be too busy worrying about you. Before I go where is the powder room?"

Spencer showed her and then came back to the kitchen. "I'm sorry." He said to Milly. "I know her coming here was unexpected…."

"Oh stop!" She said as she wiped her cheeks. "Between the three of us we've had exactly two parents who ever even tried to understand. Your Mom is the only one we have left. And she's wonderful!" She threw herself into his arms just because.

Of course Diana chose that moment to find the kitchen again. "Are you sure you don't want to stay, dear?" She asked Spencer, a twinkle in her eye. "You could start working on my grandchildren."

Stephen promptly laughed himself under the table.

* * *

Before they left Thom pulled Spencer aside. "I want you to know something." He said. "Now, I always would have, but given this…"

"Just say it." It had been a long day.

Thom took a deep breath. "If, god forbid, something is wrong in that head of yours then you know Milly has you covered now, not that either of us would ever turn away. But that's my Momma in there now too; I've got your back there if you can't keep up as her guardian."

Damn. Yes, Spencer gave Thom that big of a hug. "Thank you."

* * *

Eventually Spencer and Diana departed for the airport. Once the left Milly found a tissue and swabbed at her cheeks. "Okay, you two get to clean up and do dishes tonight."

"And what are you going to do?" Stephen asked, ready to rebel at the wrong answer, whatever that was.

"I'm going to start planning a destination wedding."

* * *

**Wedding Salon  
Wynn Hotel  
Las Vegas, NV  
06/03/06**

"I still don't see why we have to go through some elaborate ceremony." Spencer said as he squirmed. "We are married; we have the documentation to prove it."

"Because you're giving your friends and family a chance to celebrate the creation of a new family," Diana said patiently as she adjusted his bow tie, "Especially me. There, now leave it alone. Do you have any idea how happy I am that you chose to do this out here?"

Now what the hell was he supposed to say to that? Spencer gave up on trying to answer; he just kissed her on the cheek. "I love you Mom."

"I love you too son. Now come on." She folded one arm under his and the other under Thom's. "Let's go see this done properly."

* * *

"A bustle dress?" Elle said.

Garcia nodded. "Milly said every woman in her family has worn a bustle dress to their wedding for the past hundred or more years and she was not going to break the chain. So as maid-of-honor I decided to get one to go with." Garcia turned. It was a very modest bustle in the back, but the dress was hot pink with ivory lace trim. "I picked the color as well."

"And you did this just to go along with her?" JJ asked.

"Oh no, that was my _excuse_." Garcia started undoing the ivory net shawl thing she was wearing around her neck and shoulders. "See pretty much every eligible geek CalTech has produced in the past five years is going to be there tonight and I…" She finally got it undone, revealing bare arms and an impressively creamy cleavage. "…rock a corset. Hello!" She waved to a couple of guests who practically walked into a column.

They could not stop laughing.

* * *

Eventually the guests were seated. Spencer walked his mother down to the front row where she sat with Gideon. On the other side of the aisle Haley patiently waited. Behind them were Gary Douran and his wife, Dr. King and his wife, JJ, Elle and Morgan and past them the rest of their friends, past and present, all there to celebrate with them.

As promised Hotch walked Milly down the aisle. And while she wore a white bustle dress much like her Great-grandmothers instead of the veil a single white silk ribbon adorned her hair.

"Who brings this woman to be married?"

Hotch gave the only answer possible. "Her father sent her."

As he sat next to Haley Milly handed her bouquet to Garcia and took Stephen's hand. Together they stepped to the place where Spencer and Thom were waiting for them.

And together they all became a family.

* * *

.

* * *

**Note:** And with that we come to the end of the tale. Much gratitude goes to my beta reader the amazing REIDFANATIC. I have pictures of Milly's wedding dress up on the LJ account, and will add Thom's backstory as soon as I can. I'm sure we'll be hearing about Thom and Milly again, but for now I'm working on a bit of sci-fi staring out favorite profilers. Hopefully that should start in a few weeks.

Thank you all for reading.

- TKL


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